


Winchesters in Vegas (Definitely the Last Time)

by professorandre1228



Series: Comparing Monsters: Criminal Minds or Supernatural? [1]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), Supernatural
Genre: Arrested, Broken, Canon Divergence, Change in Location, Change in Worldview, Episode: s07e17 The Born-Again Identity, Hallucinations, Mental Health Patient Sam Winchester, Mental Hospital, The Talk, Vegas Weekend bad luck continues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:33:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27637577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professorandre1228/pseuds/professorandre1228
Summary: Dean, hoping that taking a break would help distract Sam from the hallucinations of Lucifer, takes his brother to Las Vegas.  Sadly, all the flashing lights, loud casinos, and crowds, make them worse, causing Sam's accident after trying to run from them.  He ends up in the secure mental ward at the same facility where Diana Reid, Dr. Spencer Reid's mother, lives.And as Winchester luck continues, Spencer and JJ just happen to be visiting Diana on the same day when Dean comes in looking for his brother.  Cue Spencer's eidetic memory and the Winchester's recent 'killing spree' and subsequent 'deaths' bring in the FBI's elite BAU team.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Series: Comparing Monsters: Criminal Minds or Supernatural? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2038048
Comments: 62
Kudos: 207





	1. Keep Talking, I Can Still Hear You

**Author's Note:**

> I've always thought it was amazing that Sam was in the mental hospital for days and no one except Dean knew. There were fake identities, but so soon after the Leviathan duplicates killing spree, someone should have recognized them. Et voila!

“Spencer!” Dr. Norman called out as he approached the young FBI agent. He held out his hand to shake Spencer’s as they stood in the entrance, located just off the main hallway, down from the lobby.

“Doctor, how are you?” Spencer responded with a smile. His mother’s psychiatrist returned his smile, then smiled over at the blond woman standing next to his patient’s son. “This is JJ. We work together and is my friend.” Dr. Norman shook her hand as well with a perfunctory greeting. “How’s mom today?”

“Well, she-,” the doctor began, but was interrupted by a loud voice in the hallway. 

“Where’s Kadinsky?” They all turned, catching a backend view of a man disappearing into the side door to the lobby. “My brother is here and you better not get in my way.” One of the male attendants sighed and trotted towards the closing door. Spencer and JJ shot Dr. Norman a concerned look.

“Should we step in?” JJ asked nervously. The doctor remained tense but assured them with a head shake. 

“No, Clif will send an alert if we need security,” he said. “We had a new patient admitted early this morning. While the patient appears to be in mental distress, he’s been very compliant, but he warned us his brother wouldn’t take the news very well. I’m guessing that’s the brother.” He forced a smile and gestured for them to head into the dayroom once he saw Clif step back into the hallway and give a small wave.

“Interesting,” Spencer said, brow furrowed, hands tugging on the leather strap to his messenger bag. “I know it’s probably none of my business, but did he admit himself?”

“Suicidal?” JJ asked Reid, her own voice concerned. Dr. Norman sighed.

“No, he came to us from one of the local hospitals. Dr. Kadinsky is in charge of his case, but I’m consulting. I’m concerned, but hopeful.” The doctor smiled again and then called out to Ms. Reid. “Diana, look who came to visit?” The blond looked up from her book, a smile breaking over her face as she recognized her son. 

“Spencer,” She cooed. 

*****

A half hour later, Spencer and JJ were sitting inside Diana’s room with the door open, when the young genius overheard one of the attendants talking to another in the hallway, voices low enough they probably thought they could not be overheard. 

“So, what was all that yelling about earlier?” The first voice asked softly. 

“Ah, it was nothing really,” the second voice, mildly accented from Texas. “You know that guy that was admitted this morning? The one that got hit by a car?” Spencer kept his eyes on his mom and JJ hunched over a book of poetry, JJ smiling as Diana read something and imparted a kid Spencer story associated with it. He smiled to himself.

“Sam? The gentle giant?” There was a quiet chuckle.

“Yeah, the yelling guy was his brother. Turns out, they are here for an annual ‘Vegas weekend’ or something and the big guy couldn’t sleep. Claimed he went for a jog and didn’t see the car. But he arrived in jeans and boots, and with enough downers in his system to drop a moose.”

“Damn,” there was a low whistle.

“Yeah, apparently, he’d been hiding how bad his insomnia and shit was from the brother and the disappearing act didn’t help either. Dr. K and Marcus took him up to Ward D2 for a face-to-face.”

Spencer sighed and stepped backwards, bringing himself outside his mother’s room and into the attendants’ line of sight.

“Uh, guys,” he said sotto voce, “Should you really be discussing this type of thing where the patients or visitors could overhear?”

Both men, shorter than Spencer, straightened up from where they had been leaning on the wall and froze, eyes wide.

“Um, sorry, no, sir. You’re right. Won’t happen again.” One guy elbowed the other and they both turned and hurried away, glancing back nervously only once. As Spencer stepped back into the room, JJ looked up to him in question, Diana in pride.

“Spence? Everything okay?” JJ asked. He shook his head and his mother chuckled, causing him to tilt his head at her.

“So, you ‘hear things’, do you?” He smiled broadly as she laughed and clapped her hands together, bringing them to cover her smile.

“My special boy,” was all she would reply. 

*****

On their way out, he caught sight of Dr. Norman talking to another man, wearing an actual doctor’s coat, something Dr. Norman rarely did, in the hallway. 

“Doctor,” he said as he approached the two men, glancing over to see JJ gesture that she was going to go outside, most likely to call Will or Hotch to catch up. The doctors looked over at him, Dr. Norman laying a hand on the other doctor’s arm and saying something too quietly for Spencer to catch, and the other doctor sighed, going quiet.

“Spencer, did you have a good visit?” The agent stopped in front of the two men, nodding. 

“Yes, actually. She is very lucid and had a pretty good day today.” Dr Norman beamed.

“Excellent, I can make a note in my charts to follow her process. I’m always happy when you visit because your insight is helpful and she generally has a few more good days afterwards.” Spencer nodded, but then nodded back over his shoulder with a frown.

“I have something else to bring up and it involves both of you, so I’m glad you’re both here.” Both doctors turned their complete focus onto him then. “While we were in my mother’s room, I overheard two orderlies talking about your new patient, Sam, I think they said his name was.” The doctors shared a glance and looks of concern before looking to Spencer to continue. “They were giving a lot of details that I’m certain are against regulations to share outside of immediate family, and should certainly never be shared around other mental patients, especially if he is, as you say, not yet diagnosed.” Dr. Norm scowled and pulled a notepad and a pen from his pocket, while the other doctor just crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. 

“Do you know which ones? We need to address this with them.”

“They name tags said ‘Clif’ and ‘Lorne’. In their defense, it was very quiet and if I hadn’t been standing directly in that spot, I might not have heard anything. As it was, they were discussing the new patient’s accident, his drug usage, and the lies to his brother. I interrupted them and reprimanded them before anything further was said.”

Dr. Norman sighed, scribbling in the names of the two orderlies who had clocked out just a few minutes before. The other doctor also sighed and threw up his hands.

“I swear, we should just put both of them on D2 ward and not let them shift to general residence,” The second doctor chided Dr. Norman. 

“Thank you for bringing this to our attention, Spencer. We’ll address this and confirm with Diana anything she can corroborate.”

“Okay, then. Have a good evening, doctors.” He tilted into a weird shallow bow, before heading out the front door to meet up with JJ. The bright lights of Vegas were just beginning to come on as the sun eased closer to the horizon, making Spencer blink once outside the shielded glass doorway. With a turn of his head, he saw JJ standing next to a restored black, 1967 Chevy Impala, talking to a man a few years older than himself. JJ appeared relaxed but the man did not. He leaned over the roof of the car, not looking at JJ and raked his hand down his face a few times. 

“Hey Spencer, ready to go?” JJ asked once she realized he was coming up beside him. The six-one man in the rough jeans and leather jacket turned his head in curiosity, then looked him up and down. 

“Your name suits you, kid,” his deep voice graveled out. Spencer forced a small smile.

“Um, thank you, I guess.”

“Dean and I were just talking about his brother being committed here after an accident and what resources he could use to get him help.” JJ, ever the mother figure, leaned her side against the car. Something in his memory twitched, hearing JJ name the man beside the car. Glancing at the car, the sleek, black classic also tweaked something in his memory.

“You’re Sam’s brother?” the genius couldn’t stop coming from his mouth. The short, dark hair on the man’s head seemed to be a blur with how fast the man spun to face him directly, eyes narrowed.

“You know Sammy?” He growled out. Spencer held up both hands immediately.

“Not personally, no. I’ve only heard about him from an orderly who didn’t think I could hear him.” The man’s eyes narrowed more.

“What did he say?”

“Oh, um, uh, he was just saying how Sam is a ‘gentle giant’,” he emphasized with air quotes, which for some reason made the man smile as though at a sad memory. “And that you weren’t happy about his current predicament.”

“No shit,” Dean huffed. “But I ain’t givin’ up, even if he has.” He stood up and shook JJ’s hand, then waved a finger at Spencer. “I’m off to see what I can find.” He went around to the driver’s side and slid in. 

“You know,” Spencer said, leaning down to talk through the window. “My mother is here full-time and the doctor’s here are excellent. You can trust that if the issue can be found, they’ll get to the bottom of it.” Dean scoffed once before firing up the roaring engine.

“Trust me, kid, the kind of help my brother needs, ain’t found in any loony bin.” He nodded at them both as he reversed and exited the parking lot. 

“Spence, you okay?” JJ was asking as he stood up, brow furrowed. There was something that niggling at his memory and he was trying to pull it all together. “Did the situation between Sam and Dean spook you or something?” And like a light being turned on, he stood up, eyes widening and gasped. Turning towards JJ, he fumbled in his pocket for phone.

“JJ, that’s it!” She looked at him with a head tilt. “Sam and Dean…Winchester!” He said it very loudly as he hit his speed dial to Hotch. He turned to head back inside, trusting JJ to follow behind. 

“The serial killers? But they’re dead…,” she muttered to herself as she walked back into the facility.


	2. Big, Gentle Giant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing Sam Winchester, with Lucifer riding shotgun.

“Welcome to Penelope’s World, crime fighters! Ask and Penelope will provide all,” came the chipper voice over the speakerphone, causing Reid, JJ, and Derek to chuckle. It was Hotch, who was standing with his arms crossed over his chest behind Reid, who sighed, patently ignoring Dr. Norman’s raised eyebrows. 

“Garcia, pull up Victor Henrickson’s old case files on Sam and Dean Winchester,” Reid said hurriedly, hearing Hotch’s sigh.

“The serial killer brothers that have died more times than Reid has stumped Rossi with factoids?” Her voice was breathy and disbelieving, even as they could hear her fingers tapping away on her trusty keyboard. “I thought you kids weren’t going to involve actual case work in your downtime weekend, unless it’s some freaky psychological game Boy Genius has come up with, in which case, not sure I want to know.” 

“Garcia,” Hotch cut her off. “Reid spotted the older brother here in Las Vegas. We are sending you some video to run your facial recognition software to confirm it’s really Dean Winchester.”

“Wow,” she muttered softly. “I’ve sent the records to your pda’s and am setting up the software to run as soon as the video finishes loading, sir.” All four FBI agents pulled out their pda’s and began perusing the information she had sent over, including the mugshots, arrest records, and multiple death certificates by medical examiners. 

As soon as JJ scrolled to the mugshot of the older brother, she gasped. Reid glanced up at her as she shot him an apologetic look and he shrugged in response, understanding that she hadn’t really believed it was really him until that moment. 

“Hotch, this is definitely the guy I talked to out front,” she said earnestly. “Older, obviously, but that was Dean Winchester.”

“She’s right, sir,” Penelope’s voice came across the line. “The software declares that Dean Winchester is somehow alive. Again.”

“Still,” Reid mumbled. When everyone shot him questioning looks, he swallowed. “Obviously, he, and probably his brother, were never dead. They faked their deaths and dropped off the grid. So, they are ‘still’ alive, not alive ‘again’.” This time, when Agent Hotchner sighed, it was more in determination than frustration. 

“JJ, contact the locals and have them put out an APB on the Winchester’s black, 1967 Chevy Impala. But tell them to follow and report only. Not to engage.” She nodded and lifted her phone to call them immediately. “Morgan, you stay with JJ just in case he shows up before we can get backup here. Reid and I need to confirm that Sam ‘Smith’ is really Sam Winchester, and determine how to handle him, before we work up the full plan.” Derek nodded, following JJ out into the hallway. “Garcia, tap into the traffic cameras in the area and see if you can track the car.” 

“Garcia, that would have been 22 minutes ago on the main highway that passes by Bennington Sanitarium in Las Vegas, Nevada,” Reid told her as he continued scrolling through the data on his pda. 

“Oh, Reid, honey,” she sighed, then took a deep breath. “I’m on it. I will find this lowlife’s car and make him wish he’d repainted it pink to hide it from me.” The line when dead. Hotch did smile then, turning to Dr. Norman.

“Doctor, we need to get visual confirmation that your patient is Samuel Winchester,” he said diplomatically. Dr. Norman nodded and opened the file he had pulled after informing Dr. Kadinsky of what was happening. The other psychiatrist had agreed to leave it to Dr. Norman to work directly with the FBI as he’d already added his notes to the patient’s file. The doctor pulled out a photograph they had taken upon admittance and placed it in Reid’s outstretched hand. 

“It’s him,” Reid said with a furrowed brow. “He looks terrible, but if he’s in a psychotic break, a drug addict, and recovering from being hit by a car, I can’t say I’d expect anything better.” He handed the photo to Hotch, who took a sharp breath when he saw why Spencer had said that. Sam was gaunt with shadows haunting his features. He had lost a bit of weight and his hair was lank and lusterless. There were scratches on his face that the heavy stubble didn’t cover completely. Even though it was only a headshot, they could make out the hunch of his posture and the glassiness of his eyes. 

“Hmmm,” Hotch nodded, handing the photo back to the psychiatrist. “Dr. Norman, as we have confirmed that this is indeed Sam Winchester, can you give us further details on his mental condition, so we know what we’re going to be dealing with?” The psychiatrist gestured for them to follow him out of his office, then motioned for Marcus, Sam’s assigned nurse to follow from where he’d been waiting in the hallway. They turned into the stairwell, letting it fall securely locked behind them before the doctor began.

“Mr. Smith, as we were told his name was, was admitted after a brief psych eval from a local hospital.” They climbed the stairs slowly, heading to the 4th floor. “He claims he has had very bad insomnia and had gone out for a jog in the middle of the night and had not seen the car because of his sluggish mind. However, when he was given the standard drug testing, they found large amounts of depressants and anxiety meds in his system, none of which he has a prescription for. He claimed he only took them to try to sleep as he hasn’t been able to sleep for five days so far. With what we’ve seen, I’m inclined to believe him.”

“And you suspected a suicide attempt?” Hotch asked as they turned the landing on the 2nd floor. 

“Not at all, actually. Through his reactions and affect, he is experiencing intense hallucinations, hearing voices, appears to lose time, and zones out occasionally. Marcus here and Dr. Kadinsky have both heard him muttering about getting ‘Lucifer’ to leave him alone.” Hotch and Reid shared a concerned glance as they approached the 3rd floor landing. 

“Lucifer?” Reid asked. “He’s hallucinating that he’s being tormented by the Devil?” The psychiatrist shrugged with his hands up.

“He doesn’t say specifically, but he’s presenting as being in a very bad schizophrenic episode and none of the medications we’ve been able to give him safely are working one iota. Another patient, who claims she is being haunted by her dead brother who sets fires around her, told Dr. Kadinsky about a conversation she’d had with Sam, and it only confirmed what we had already suspected.” He stopped as they reached the 4th floor landing, Marcus holding out his key, but waiting for the doctor to give him the go ahead. The doctor turned towards the FBI agents with a sigh.

“Full disclosure, I’m sure you’re aware that this man is very tall and muscular. But he’s earned the nickname ‘the gentle giant’ from the other patients and the staff.” Reid hurried to agree.

“That’s what the two orderlies called him earlier, Hotch,” He said, stopping only when his supervisor shot him a mild glare. Dr. Norman nodded.

“You heard his brother and saw the lobby video from earlier, so you know his brother shows violent tendencies and an inability to control his anger and emotions.” When Hotch and Reid acknowledged and filed that information away internally towards the profile being built, he continued. “Sam, however, has been nothing but compliant. He is showing signs of mental and physical exhaustion. I’m sure he could use bouts of adrenaline to be dangerous, but we’ve seen nothing but gentleness and he’s gone out of his way to present himself as non-threatening.” When the FBI agents blinked in surprise at the very different portrayal than they had viewed in the online killing spree videos, the doctor sighed and gestured for them to continue after him. “You’ll see.” 

Marcus unlocked the 4th floor door into the hallway, then the ward D2 double doors. They followed the nurse and the doctor through, waiting while both the doors were secured behind them. 

“This is a secure ward,” Marcus commented as they watched him closely. “All of the patients up here are a risk, mostly to themselves.”

“Sam has a lot of scars, none of them appear self-inflicted, but with his current affect,” the doctor told them quietly as they approached a row of doors on the left, “we haven’t ruled out the accident as a suicide attempt.” Stopping at the second open door, he looked around, seeing a slender young woman with long, dark hair and bandages on her wrists shifting nervously near the door, her eyes darting from them to the room they were heading into. “Marin, you need to go back to your room.”

“Is…is Sam going to be okay?” She asked in a halting voice, blushing and causing her freckles to darken. The doctor gently put a hand on her elbow and turned her away, putting her into motion.

“He’s fine, Marin. I do appreciate your concern, but you need to let us talk to him in private, please.” She watched the agents and the doctor skeptically, rubbing her hands over her arms, but finally nodded and padded away. The doctor turned back to them. 

“She and Sam have bonded on some level and he appears to be good for her morale,” he whispered. They looked over his shoulders at the retreating young woman. “Shall we?” He gestured into the room.

As they stepped into the doorway, they both took note of the standard secure mental ward room. The small, squarish room, not small enough to make the patient feel closed in, but not large enough to waste extra room. The pale walls, painted in a calming color of soft taupe. The barred windows that looked down on the nature that surrounded the facility, allowing plenty of natural light for increased production of serotonin and melatonin. It was a basic therapy for the sleep-deprived to help get them back into a circadian rhythm. The white, metal bedstead with standard twin bed and nightstand. There was a desk, chair, and lamp, and scattered around the surfaces were a few books, but while Reid took note that they appeared to be more clinical in nature rather than pleasure reading, it was minor in light of the sight of the man laying on the bed. 

The first thing Reid, as a tall, slender man, noticed was that the posture they found the man in was very much one of self-protection and introversion. He was curled in on himself, showing only the white, institution-issued t-shirt, scrub pants from the back, and tan soles of his canvas shoes. The long hair that was attributed to Sam Winchester was laying flat and dull against the pillowcase. His arms were curled around himself but with his fast breathing, they could tell he was not asleep. 

“Sam,” Dr. Norman said, then coughed when there was no response. “Sam,” he tried again at a louder level. They saw the figure on the bed go completely still. “It’s Dr. Norman, Sam.” The man sighed and then uncurled, slowing rolling over onto his back, turning his head at and angle to look in their direction. His eyes jittered over the doctor, then scanned the two FBI agents, finally acknowledging the nurse with a blink, before his eyes drifted over to the desk where his face went emotionless. If they hadn’t been watching for it before, they would not have known he had been showing any emotion when he first rolled over, but the final mask accented the previous subtle confusion he’d initially felt. After a few seconds, his eyes went back to the doctor.

Reid’s initial impression was that the bed was too short for the man currently sprawled out across the mattress. Even though it was the standard 6 foot, 3 inch mattress, the man laying on it had his head bent against the metal headboard, but still had this left foot, clad in the institution issued white, canvas sneakers, hanging a few inches off the end. His other leg was bent, keeping the other foot on the bed. His head was turned away from the windows, which only highlighted the shadows that made his face more angular. The face was haggard and unshaven, the eyes ringed in dark circles, sunken. His skin was pasty and there were minute tremors that shook him off and on. 

The man on the bed simply stared at the doctor until he spoke again.

“These men would like to talk to you, Sam,” Dr. Norman said, taking a step towards the patient and gesturing behind himself at the agents with his chin. Sam’s eyes widened a little, as though he was surprised, and moved to complete rolling over until both his legs hung over this side of the mattress and his torso was rising up. It was an oddly graceful move, with a small wobble that hinted at his failing strength, as he finally ended sitting on the side of the bed, head coming up slowly, his long hair parting over his face. He remained with his shoulders hunched and head slightly bowed, but seemed to be prepared to make a dash for the door. 

“Sam Winchester,” Agent Hotchner said after a short silence. Sam’s body flinched as though he had been slapped, his eyes darting back over to the desk. Reid and Hotch glanced to the empty corner before turning their full attention back to the patient. They saw Sam’s shoulders hunch in more and he dropped forward, his elbows landing on his knees and his head falling into his hands. The oily hair swung around his covered face and they heard him bark a harsh laugh. Reid noted the bandage on his left wrist, as noted in the file Dr. Norman had shared with them that was part of the injuries he received in the accident. 

“My name is Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner and this is Dr. Spencer Reid. We’re with the-,” Hotch began, reaching for his badge.

“FBI,” the muffled voice came from behind the dual shield of hands and hair. There was a shake of his body as though huffing a laugh but with the next statement, Hotch revised that assessment to it being a sob. The hands moved enough to rub over his cheeks and it uncovered his mouth. “I’m so sorry about what happened to Agent Henrickson. He was a good man.” Hotch and Reid shared a glance.

“Yes,” Hotch said diplomatically. “He was. I assume you are lucid enough to understand why we’re here…” It was a rhetorical question, but Sam huffed a small laugh and dropped his hands to hang between his knees, raising his head to look at them again. 

“Yeah, just took me a minute to make sure you were real and not another hallucination,” Sam said, eyes darting to the corner again, brow furrowing in a glare. 

“Sam, what are you seeing by the desk?” Reid asked softly. The patient glanced at Reid, then back at the corner before drooping his head forward again.

“If you can believe it, Lucifer.” Reid mouthed the name to himself with wide eyes.

“And what’s he doing?” Sam flopped back on the bed and huffed a drunken sounding laugh. He bounced a little on the mattress and threw his arms over his eyes. 

“Singing ‘Barbie Girl’ at full volume and drawing daisies on the walls,” Sam chuckled. “I guess he’s amused that the FBI found me and he’s in a playful mood.” He chuckled again. “Better than the firecrackers every 10 seconds and maggots in my food, I guess. Not that he’ll let me sleep either way.” Hotch and Reid shared another look, Dr. Norman watching it all quietly from the side. Marcus stayed relaxed in the doorway, leaning on the frame. 

“We know your brother was here earlier, Sam. Where did he go?” the senior agent asked. Sam huffed and tossed his head from side to side under his arms.

“I don’t know. I told him to just go and leave me to die. But he’s determined to find…something to close the leak between my brain and the Cage. And he calls me stubborn.” He suddenly sat up, pitching sideways before catching himself. He threw up a pleading hand. “Please, just let him go and live his life. I know you don’t believe me, no one does until it’s too late, but he’s the good one. I confess…to everything. Just tell him I died and you’ll never hear from him again. I promise!”

Hotch was shaking his head before Sam had gotten halfway through his plea. 

“I’m sorry, but we can’t do that.”


	3. The Profile and Apprehension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The BAU gains insight from conjecture and Dean drags Cas into the mess.

“Sammy, Sammy, Sammy,” Lucifer sing-songed into his ear, carding a hand through the long, limp strands of Sam’s hair, causing the tall man to jerk in his bonds.

“Don’t. Touch. Me.” Sam hissed before he could stop himself. He was currently laid flat on a gurney, his arms, ankles, chest, and thighs held down by restraint straps. He shot his eyes up to where his tormenter crouched above his head as he yanked his head as far away from the imagined touch. Lucifer laughed and leaned back, holding up his hands as though giving in to Sam’s request. The next flinch was when a gloved hand gently gripped his chin and another shone a small light into his eyes. He blinked, turning his head away.

“How is he?” the younger agent’s voice said from somewhere close by. Sam turned his head frantically looking around, lighting on the young FBI agent seated on the bench around the area of his knees. Then there was another man in an FBI vest on the other side of him, a dark-skinned, bald man. And the EMT who was checking him over. He could feel the movement of the vehicle, so there was obviously a driver as well. If he was in FBI custody, then he knew there’d be at least two law enforcement vehicles keeping pace, probably one in front and one in back. Sam heaved a breath and closed his eyes as he swallowed down the despair the sudden clarity gave him.

“Elevated heart rate and blood pressure, rapid respirations, pupils dilated, sluggish, but reacting,” the EMT intoned, turning the penlight off and putting it back in his shirt pocket. “Stable, but I cannot give him anything else. With what the doctor gave him before, as well as the heavy sedatives that were administered before we picked him up, he should have been down for the count for at least a day.”

“But-?” the dark-skinned man prompted him, hand on his hip where his gun was holstered, but unsnapped. The EMT sighed, shaking his head.

“But whatever is going on with him, he won’t stay under.”

“Oh, bunkmate,” Lucifer chuckled, “If they only knew.” Sam flinched again and clenched his fists. 

“Doctors Norman and Kadinsky said that we have to keep him calm,” the younger agent said to the EMT. “By his own admittance, he hasn’t slept more than a few minutes in several days.” The EMT nodded with a frown, glancing over at the portable monitor Sam was attached to. The dark-skinned agent tilted his head in question.

“The longest scientifically recorded time someone went without sleep was set by Randy Gardner in 1964. He went 11 days, but he was trying to break the record, so it was planned and carefully monitored by his friends. Even then he still suffered from severe cognitive impairment, altered perception, lack of concentration, even a mild psychosis, not to mention the physical issues, such as increased blood pressure, anxiety, and a lifelong insomnia. There were other reports that the record has reached 18 days but as they were not scientifically monitored, they have not be acknowledged as trustworthy by most sources.” Reid and Morgan glanced between each other and the retrained serial killer. “But it’s been proven that prolonged sleep deprivation can cause a full blown psychosis, hallucinations, both visual and auditory, heart attacks, and even strokes. Sam appears to be or has been a young, healthy male, but with the reported five days without sleep, you can see what it’s reduced him to.” 

Both of them scanned over Sam, who now lay, blinking slowly, eyes hollow and staring only at the ceiling. They’d already seen the tremors he had when they’d had him move onto the gurney, the lack of strength when he’d tried to offer a token resistance as they strapped him down, the mood swings as his eyes had darted from person to person, always returning to the empty corner of the room. 

When Marcus had finally, with a soft apology to the nearly tearful man, injected the heavy sedative into the newly installed IV, Sam had smiled and sighed as his eyes finally closed and not reopened right away. To the doctors and the agents, they’d all agreed that he appeared relieved as he’d finally gone under. Now, just under a half hour since leaving the Bennington facility, on final approach to a more secure facility, Lake’s Crossing Center, where Sam could be treated and would be under maximum security lockdown, and he was awake again. 

“Sam, I gotta know,” Morgan said slowly, shaking his head, “What happened to you? How did you end up like this?” Sam let out a harsh laugh that turned into a sob. He turned to look the dark-skinned agent in the eyes, emotions raw.

“I remembered.” The first tear slid down the side of his face as he closed his eyes and turned his face away.

*****

“Garcia, anything?” Hotch asked out loud, leaning over the office phone between himself and JJ. The door behind them opened up, admitting Rossi and Prentiss. JJ smiled at them briefly, but Hotch only raised a hand in acknowledgement and to let them know he was listening for their tech to reply. 

“A few passing shots on traffic cams picked up a classic, black, Chevy Impala leaving Las Vegas at a high rate of speed.” Rossi hummed.

“Wherever he’s going, he’s aware he’s under a deadline,” the Italian agent commented.

“Where was this, Garcia?” Hotch continued, eyebrows furrowed, watching Emily lay out a map on the table near the phone. 

“Ash Springs, then three and a half hours later outside of, ironically,” Penelope muttered, “Jackpot, Nevada. He apparently stopped for gas in Burley, Idaho, just a few minutes ago.” Emily had her fingers tracing the roads to those cities, marking each location as she went. “And facial recognition confirmed that it was Dean Winchester who was pumping the gas, sir.”

“Get this information to state troopers and local enforcement to be on the lookout,” Hotch responded to her. “Warn them who they are looking for and that he’s most likely armed and extremely dangerous. Let us know if you find anything else. Thanks Garcia.” After she responded cheerily, he pressed the button to disconnect and turned to the others.

“He’s making damn good time, Hotch,” Rossi said after some quick calculations and a glance at his watch. 

“And either, he doesn’t know we have his brother…,” JJ said flipping some pages of the printouts in front of her.

“Or, he knows and believes whatever he’s running towards is the only thing that can save Sam,” Hotch finished, meeting her gaze. “Pull up Henrickson’s old profiles on both of them, apply the new information we have, plus the psychiatric evaluations on Sam over the past two days, and let’s work on updating those profiles to figure out where Dean is going and when we can expect him to return here.” 

The two women immediately began pulling records together as the phone on the desk rang. JJ answered, putting it on speakerphone.

“Hey, it’s Morgan,” came the voice, as Rossi strolled to the tackboard where the old mugshots, Sam’s admittance photo, and several screengrabs from their murder spree videos were arranged. “The kid woke up before we ever got here.” Rossi shot an surprised glance over his shoulder at that, matching the awe in everyone else’s. “Woke up twitching.”

They could tell from his voice he was disturbed by something. 

“Morgan, is everything still good?” Hotch asked in concern. There was a sigh on the other end of the line.

“Yeah, they’re currently installing him in his ‘private room’ with Reid supervising the security. Wonder Boy seems be a calming influence on the guy. He won’t talk though. I did ask him how he got like this and all he would say before he shut down was that he ‘remembered’.” There was a pause. “I’ve been thinking. What if that year Sam was missing, he was really a prisoner, being tortured?”

“Huh,” Emily said, looking up from the files. “He WAS pretty different from before that time. Before, he was profiled as the submissive in the relationship, but still confident, and the emotive one of the two. But any sighting since they returned to the limelight has him being cold, calculating, almost soulless.”

“The report from the hospital did show numerous scars all over his body,” JJ said softly, grimacing. “The doctor conjectured they were from various burns, knife wounds, bullet wounds, slashes.”

“Sounds like torture scars to me,” Morgan said from the phone. 

“So maybe,” Prentiss said partially to herself, “after he escaped or was let go-.”

“Or maybe rescued by his brother,” Rossi broke in. Prentiss nodded.

“Or rescued, he was emotionally shut down.” 

“And that made him and his brother go on a killing spree?” JJ was incredulous. Emily tilted her head a little. 

“And then something made him remember and threw him into a full psychotic break?” Morgan asked. “So where does Lucifer come in then?” When Rossi and Prentiss stood up in shock, Hotch sighed.

“When Reid and I confronted Sam the first time at Bennington, he told us that he was hallucinating Lucifer.”

“And that his brother was going to find a way to close the ‘leak’ between his ‘brain’ and ‘the Cage’,” broke in Reid’s voice from behind Morgan’s. 

“The ‘cage’,” Rossi said slowly. “Maybe where he was kept during his imprisonment?”

“Or maybe where he locked away the memories of the torture?” Morgan offered. Reid made a noise they all recognized as the young agent having an insightful thought.

“Reid, you have a different thought?” Hotch asked.

“He says he’s hallucinating Lucifer,” the young man said hesitantly. “In Christian mythology, Lucifer was locked away in a cage in Hell after he was cast down from Heaven.” There was a pause for them to digest that.

“So his psychotic break has him believing he was in the Cage in Hell with Lucifer being tortured for some reason?” Hotch asked, his frown pronounced.

“Possibly, but without further analysis and information, it’s only a thought really into what’s going on in Sam’s head.” 

“We’ll keep that in mind. You two make sure he’s secure and then we’ll join up via conference call with Garcia in…,” Hotch said, looking at his watch, “Three hours, unless something new happens. Everyone share any findings so we can all be on the same page.” They all disconnected and went to their different assignments as they waited for more sightings of Dean Winchester.

*****

Completely consumed by the search for a cure for Sam, Dean was oblivious to the black SUV that pulled up not far behind Baby as he and not-Cas stopped outside the convenience store. He was aghast at his sweater-wearing friend-who-had-no-memory and trying to measure out his words so as not to spook the ‘faith healer’ before he could get him to fix the wall in Sammy’s head. It took Emmanuel’s eyes to widen and his hands to come up before he took note of the FBI vests and handguns pointed at him. 

“Whoa, easy there,” he said, throwing his own hands up and stumbling sideways to block any stray bullets from Cas. 

“Dean Winchester,” the older Italian man said loudly, leading the charge. The two other FBI flanking him not-so-discreetly kept watching for their cues from this central man, so Dean focused on him.

“You got the wrong guy,” he said with a nervous look, “I know I look like him, but he and his whack-a-doo brother died a few months ago. I saw it on the news.” He felt Cas flinch behind him and sent a silent prayer for Cas to have just enough memory to trust him. 

“Put your hands on the top of your head and turn around,” the lead agent commanded. Dean, rolling his eyes, eased his hands up to comply and turned slowly, giving a frightened Emmanuel an apologetic smile and minute shrug. The faith healer frowned, tilting his head, taking a step back away from him. The green-eyed hunter sighed, muttering under his breath. The lead agent eased closer, then holstered his gun, and grabbed his cuffs. 

“Move away from the suspect,” one of the other agents told Cas, moving forward to grab his arm and twist it behind him to handcuff him as well. Cas squawked indignantly but complied.

The last agent was distracted by talking into the device attached to his vest, so that when the lead agent put the cuff on the first wrist and began to twist the arm behind his back, Dean spun out of the hold, shoving the agent backwards with enough force that he stumbled over the edge of the curb and nearly fell. As Dean finished his spin, he already had his gun pulled from the waistband at his lower back, had kicked off a shot to the exposed meat of the distracted agent’s shoulder and was pointing it at the lead agent, who was reaching for his own holster. 

“I don’t have time for this, dude,” he shouted at the agent, casting his eyes to the other agents. The lead agent, had stilled, his hand hovering over his holster, the dark beard and mustache not hiding his grim frown. The agent he’d shot had lost his weapon as he’d fallen and was laying semi-conscious on the ground. The agent cuffing Cas had frozen, wide-eyed, standing behind the not-angel, who was also wide-eyed. 

“We found your brother, Dean,” the lead agent said, watching Dean’s eyes whip back to him in concern. 

“What?!” Dean faltered, the dangling cuff jangling as he stumbled in place. 

“One of our agents found him at Bennington in Las Vegas. He’s been taken into custody and transferred to a maximum security mental hospital,” the agent continued. “My name is SSA David Rossi. I’m with the FBI, based out of Quantico, Virginia. I worked with Victor Henrickson before you killed him.” 

He watched with interest as Dean’s face grimaced sadly. The wanted man shook his head and sighed.

“Henrickson was a good guy. He didn’t deserve to die like that. None of them did,” Dean said. Rossi noted the sincerity in his voice. 

“None of them did,” Rossi echoed.

“Sammy doesn’t deserve to die this way either,” Dean told him, his voice breaking. “I know you won’t believe it, but this man is a faith healer, sort of. He can fix Sammy and we’re running out of time.” Rossi glanced at the man who had been getting into the car with Dean. 

“You’re right. The doctors have said that Sam’s body is going to start shutting down soon from the strain.” He watched Dean suck in a breath as his eyes glanced back over at the sweater-wearing man. “They are doing everything they can to keep that from happening, Dean. And if you come peacefully, we’ll make sure you get to see him. My team and I are hoping you can tell us something that can lead us in the right direction on how to save him.” He watched Dean shift, his eyes welling up. 

“You can’t save him,” Dean nearly sobbed, growled. He gestured with his head and his eyes at the other man. “He broke him. Only he can fix him. Only, he’s broken too, but in a different way.” Rossi glanced at the other man, noting the tilt of the head.

“My lack of memory?” Cas asked Dean, who nodded. “Am I…am I Cas?” Dean’s breath stuttered and the gun dipped. 

“Yeah,” Came his soft reply, making the other man frown sadly, head drooping. Dean’s gun slipped again, then he uncocked it and flipped it in his hand, offering it butt first to the FBI agent in front of him. “Take both of us to Sammy. Please.” He pleaded the agent with his watery eyes, hands up as soon as Rossi disarmed him. 

“I think we’re all going to Vegas, Dean,” Rossi said, finishing the cuffing of the wanted man. He’d heard the sirens during the standoff but had ignored them in favor of keeping Dean’s focus on himself. As he escorted the tall man in flannel to the back seat of the black SUV, he saw EMTs rushing to the fallen agent’s side. A raised eyebrow at one of the EMTs garnered a thumbs up and he closed the door on the suspect’s worried face. While the other agent placed ‘Cas’ in the back seat on the other side, he speed dialed his team.

“Rossi?” Hotch asked as way of greeting. 

“Got him, Hotch. Him and another man, a friend of theirs, I guess.” There was a sigh on the other end.

“Any casualties?” Rossi smiled to himself. 

“One agent shot in the shoulder, but otherwise considerably peaceful. Gotta wrap up with the local office, then we’re heading your way.” He could hear relieved breaths.

“Don’t dawdle, Rossi,” Hotch warned lowly. “Sam may not make it much longer.” 


	4. Paths Crossed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damnit, Meg!

“So what happened to Sam, Dean?” Rossi asked, looking at the green-eyed man in the rearview mirror. The murderer had been nothing but compliant and silent since allowing himself to be handcuffed. It seemed as long as they were moving towards his brother, he was willing to at least not work against them. Rossi had watched the two, letting Agent Alvarez handle all the driving. They’d gotten an ID on the second man about an hour into the drive. His name James Novak, a man who had disappeared from Pontiac, Illinois, several years ago, leaving behind a wife and child. James hadn’t reacted to the name except in confusion, while Dean had looked guilty. 

Dean sighed, wiping his cheek against his shoulder, as he closed his eyes. A few deep breaths later and the eyes opened, but never moved from staring out the side window at the passing scenery. 

“Angels and demons happened to Sam,” Dean growled. Novak tilted his head in concern.

“I get the feeling you don’t mean that figuratively,” Rossi said hesitantly. That garnered a chuff of laughter and a dark pair of eyes meeting his in the mirror, if only briefly. Alvarez glanced over at him with raised eyebrows.

“Guess it’s time for the ‘talk’,” Dean chuffed again. He shifted around for a second and then again met Rossi’s eyes in the mirror. “Vampires, man. Werewolves, wendigos, ghosts, ghouls, witches…freaking witches, man. They’re all real.” When Rossi snorted, Dean nodded, then leaned back as best as he could with his arms handcuffed behind him. He looked away again. “Yeah, it’s hard for people to believe until they’ve seen something, but being FBI, I’m pretty sure you’ve seen some things that can’t be explained.” Rossi tried not to respond but felt his eyebrow twitch anyway. Even without Dean’s eyes on him in the mirror, from the small smile and second nod, he was pretty sure Dean knew anyway. 

“Everything can be explained,” Rossi forced out in a calm voice. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Everything can be explained AWAY, you mean. Dead body in a housed locked from the inside. Things being where there is no way they could have gotten there. People acting like they’re coming out of a trance and not remembering the bad things they’ve done. I promise you, a good bit of those were possessed.” Rossi scoffed.

“We had a case of an insane priest who believed people were possessed, but he was poisoning them and then killing them during his exorcisms,” the FBI agent told him mockingly. Dean turned to meet his eyes, considering.

“Yeah, up until recently I’d have said crazy people weren’t part of my gig.” He shrugged.

“Then Sam…” There was a quiet pause, then Dean hitched a breath.

“Yeah. Sam.” Rossi shifted in his seat, resettling as Alvarez indicated he was going to have to stop for gas before the last leg of their journey. Dean looked around. “How far out are we?”

“Two, three hours, at most,” Alvarez responded, stopping by the pumps. He stepped out, heading inside to pay after securing his door. Dean grunted, forehead furrowed.

“So why don’t you tell me more about how Sam ended up the way he is,” Rossi prompted him. Before Dean could do more than turn his head, the driver’s door opened, admitting a short brunette with a heart-shaped face. Rossi reached for his gun, but she already had one pointed at him as she slid in and pulled the door closed behind her. She tsked and took the weapon from him, then glanced at the two men in the back seat. 

“Hello, boys,” she oozed with a smirk. Dean had tensed once he’d recognized the woman, and now huffed at her with gritted teeth. Jimmy, however, stared blankly at her, completely in the dark as to her identity. “Dean-o, finally went and got yourself Feebed up, huh? And dragged poor Clarence into it too.”

“Meg,” Dean growled. “What do you want?” She tilted her head and smiled broadly.

“You might remember how me and Crowley were frosty back in the day?” Rossi kept his hands up and watched the interaction. It appeared there was some relationship between the woman and the prisoners, but it didn’t make sense yet. And now a new name, ‘Crowley’. “Well, times haven’t changed.” Dean scoffed and turned away from her. 

“Good.” The woman gasped in mock hurt.

“That hurts my feelings. I’ve been good to you, Dean. But see, there’s been these rumors of a wandering faith healer but they’ve been strictly low-level. But body count’s getting high enough to change that.”

“Body count?” Rossi asked, drawing the woman’s raised eyebrow.

“No one’s talking to you right now, agent.” She flipped her hair as she gestured towards Jimmy. “Folks are sniffing angel dust and falling aaaaalll over each other trying to tell that smarmy bastard.” Dean looked at her in thought. “Now picture Crowley with his hands on harmless little amnesia-Cas. Don’t get me wrong. I’m gonna burn that smarmy dick, but right now, my army-of-one situation is not cutting it. I have a price on my ass and I need friends.”

“Lady, you picked a really bad time to dip your cuckoo into the FBI,” Rossi smirked slowly, watching from his peripherals as several of the escorting officers in the follow vehicles were slowly circling the SUV. Meg merely rolled her eyes. 

“And here I was hoping we could all get along,” she sing-songed, “Lucky for you, I need both of these dweebs. I can’t die but I’d hate to lose either of them in crossfire. ” She winked at Dean, then threw her head back. 

Rossi started to dive forward, seeing this chance to disarm her. He heard Dean’s shout but suddenly had a face full of black, swirling smoke. He gasped at the sudden thought that maybe she’d had a bomb hidden on her and began to choke. He clawed at his throat as he felt the smoke like a live thing forcing itself down his throat. Then it felt as though he was drugged with a paralytic and couldn’t move a muscle. Except he could feel his body moving all on its own. There was a final swallow and his vision cleared, showing the unmoving body of the woman in the driver’s seat, the gun laying lax in her hand. He saw himself reach down and pick it up, moving it away from the body. 

“Damnit Meg!” Dean said loudly as the doors of the SUV were thrown open, the other agents and officers aiming at the occupants. He and Cas merely froze where they were and let them check them over for weapons, check to make sure they were still secured in the cuffs. 

Meg’s body was pulled out of the vehicle and searched for weapons even as they checked her for wounds and signs of life. Rossi checked in with the team, blending in seamlessly, if a little arrogant for what Dean had observed so far. He’d seen Rossi deftly pocket the demon-killing knife before the doors were flung open, but kept his mouth closed. Meg needed them and he needed Rossi to get to Sam in time with Cas. While he and Cas were under complete guard, he watched the possessed agent deftly talk the others and Alvarez into finishing the fill up, and letting them get back on the road as there was a life and death condition on the other end of this trip.

It made Dean’s stomach flip and his eyes kept going from ‘Rossi’ to Cas and back. Cas’ brow was deep in a frown as his thoughts had turned internal. Dean silently hoped Cas got his memory back, but since the last time he’d seen the angel, he’d been an exploding ‘pseudo-god’ with delusions of grandeur. Cas had been so self-important in his misguided mission that he’d broken Sam’s wall, putting him in his current position. At the very end, he’d seen the error of his ways, but it had been too late. He could only hope that if, when Cas got his memory back, he’d be the remorseful, helpful Cas, not the vengeful god Cas. 

Within 20 minutes, Meg’s body had been hauled away, explained away as a carjacking gone wrong by the possessed agent, and Rossi, Alvarez, Dean, and Cas were back on the road.

“So, Dean,” Rossi smiled at the hunter in the rearview mirror. “If my memory hasn’t failed me, you were explaining Sammy’s situation?” Dean scoffed, but decided to play along. Maybe Meg really didn’t know about Sam. If so, that meant the demon’s probably didn’t know either, something that Meg’s appearance had instantly made him fear. He also hoped that the real Rossi was listening in and wasn’t catatonic or in full terror inside there.

“Do you believe in God, Agent Rossi?” He asked, with a frown. Rossi raised an eyebrow, but nodded, letting the hunter know that the agent was active inside and listening. “Well, there are demons and there are angels. And Lucifer is real.” Alvarez scoffed loudly, shaking his head. “You can believe in God, but not the Devil?”

“Not in the literal sense,” Alvarez chuckled. “Too many nutjobs claiming they were told to kill by the devil. Some saying they are the devil.” Dean couldn’t help the sad, pitying look at the agent driving.

“Lucifer is real,” Dean’s voice broke, then he coughed and continued. “He got out of the Cage in Hell and was set to battle the Archangel Michael for the dominance of the world. My brother. Sam…he sacrificed himself. He tricked Lucifer back into the Cage and took Michael and our half-brother down with him. Saved me. Saved the whole damned world.” Dean laid his head back and smiled sadly. 

“And only a very few of us ever knew it,” he continued. “Never expected to see him again but he was rescued by, uh,” He glanced over at Cas, “an angel. But he came back wrong. They left his soul in the Cage. By the time I made a deal to get his soul back, it was, um, so damaged that a, uh, mental block was put up to keep him sane.” He was frowning deeply now. “But the block was busted by a trusted friend to get me out of the way, and now he has all the memories from his time being a chew toy for Lucifer and an angry archangel. Think of it as super extreme PTSD.”

Rossi nodded, a little sadly if Dean wasn’t wrong. Alvarez was still scoffing. 

“And Clarence here can rebuild the block wall for Sammy?” Cas’s eyes shot open in shock but a look from Dean had him closing his mouth.

“That’s the idea, agent,” Dean replied with an emphasis on ‘agent’. 

“Hmmm,” he hummed. “Well, alrighty then. Straight to Sam. No detours.” Dean nodded slowly. “You think Clarence here could be more helpful if he had his memories back?” Rossi smirked at Dean, but the hunter sighed. 

“Rather not do it your way,” Dean grumbled, prompting Rossi to chuckle. 

Inside his possessed body, Rossi’s mind was working as fast as it could to revise the profiles. After accepting that he was somehow possessed, although that completely changed his worldview, he realized that Henrickson’s belief that Sam and Dean were delusional, was most likely wrong, at least on some level. Even if it wasn’t really Lucifer that had Sam for that time, from what the reports had described before and during his capture, and Dean’s explanation, solidified the conjecture that Sam had been brutally tortured in the past. And if it was Lucifer, then the fact that Sam was even walking and talking was a miracle.


	5. Marin and a Circle of Salt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam won't give up on helping Marin so he talks Reid and Prentiss into an experiment. And Dean and Cas talk.

“Dr. Reid.” Spencer lifted his head from where he had been reviewing Henrickson’s compiled records on the Winchesters, as well as the newer records Garcia had sent from what she had been able to link. He was sitting in the observation room overlooking the room where Sam Winchester was secured. His name, spoken aloud in the quiet space, only enforced what Spencer could see of the large man currently occupying the bed. Over the past few hours, he’d watched as Sam had gone quieter than before, the shadows beneath his eyes and along his gaunt features growing deeper. He was blinking slowly, often closing his eyes for longer periods, but then he’d flinch and grimace and they would fly open again. His breathing was shallow and when he turned his head to look toward the observation room, Reid could feel the herculean effort that went into it, much less gathering the strength to talk. 

“Yes, Sam?” Spencer asked after thumbing the com button on the desk.

“How is Marin doing?” The agent’s brow furrowed, until it he placed the name as belonging to the young, female patient back at Bennington who had been concerned about Sam when they’d arrived. He’d specifically called earlier in the day to get some further information about how other patients interacted with Sam while he’d been there, and he debated on sharing what he knew with the prisoner. Watching Sam’s frown though, he couldn’t come up with a reason not to share.

“She had another episode last night. She somehow set a fire in the bathroom, but the staff were able to put it out.” Sam drew in a deep breath, closing his eyes. 

“She needs help, Dr. Reid,” Sam said, staring at him through the observation window. “She’s being haunted by her dead brother. He’s starting the fires to get her to join him and she’s close to giving in.” Spencer laid his pen inside the folder and closed it, giving Sam his full attention.

“Dr. Norman agrees that her delusions of persecution by her dead brother are prompting her to attempt to kill herself. I’m sure they’ll find the right treatment and medication combination to help her eventually. But I’ll let her know you asked about her. Maybe that will help her if she knows someone outside the facility staff cares.” Before he could turn back to the file, he heard Sam scoff.

“I’d like to propose an experiment,” Sam said, shifting in the bed, the handcuff on his left wrist rattling. They had taken off the restraints upon the realization that he was too exhausted to sit up, much less fight them off and escape. Spencer smiled to himself, allowing his curiosity to grant Sam the indulgence. Emily entered the observation room behind him, and he held up a hand to keep her silent. 

“What kind of experiment?” Sam smiled.

“Blend treatments. Marin’s belief is that her dead brother is haunting her. Her doctor would agree that if she felt he was no longer haunting her, she’d most likely get better, agreed?” Emily opened her mouth, but Spencer just silenced her again. 

“Most likely.” 

“I had offered to help her banish her brother but was arrested before I could complete it for her.” Now both Emily and Spencer were quietly listening to Sam. “Nothing dangerous. She wears a woven thread bracelet he made for her when they were kids. He bled on it accidentally. It’s what’s holding him to this place. Spirits, even the best people, get lost the longer they are stuck as ghosts. She has to burn it to banish him, but,” Sam paused to take a few deeper breaths, “he’s not going to go quietly. She needs to stand inside a circle of salt to keep him from stopping her, and then burn the bracelet. Once that’s done, she should be free.”

“Salt?” Emily asked quietly. “Against a ghost?” Spencer looked up at her from where he still sat.

“In religion, salt is mentioned again and again as a purifying agent, in many religions, including Christianity and Buddhism, to name a few. Ghosts were considered evil or unclean and salt, logically, should help repel them or cleanse the area of them.” Emily raised one eyebrow at him before they turned back to where Sam was quietly waiting. “Sam, you’re saying that by playing into her beliefs, a simple ritual burning will clear up her delusions and allow her to move on?” Sam smiled and lifted the hand on his stomach halfway up to give a thumbs up.

“You’re surely not buying into this, Reid,” Emily asked, incredulously. Spencer shrugged.

“Explain to me what I’d have to do, Sam,” he said, addressing the prone man, “and I’ll discuss it with her psychiatrist.” Sam took a few deeper breaths and laid out the basics of what he had planned to do for the haunted woman. 

*****

“Dean,” Cas whispered from beside him. The hunter turned a tired gaze onto the other man to show he was listening. “I can see her face. Why can I see her face?” Dean followed Cas’ horrified gaze to where Rossi turned every now again to eye them as they drove. 

“She’s a demon and you’re an angel, Cas,” Dean whispered back. “You can see her twisted black soul, even if she possesses a living person. It’s what humans who go to Hell turn into and it’s not pretty.” 

“What the hell are you two nutjobs talking about back there?” Alvarez said very loudly as he’d caught a word or two.

“Keep your mind on the drive, Alvarez,” Rossi reprimanded the other agent, before partially turning to offer a subtle smile at Cas. “If Winchester wants to try his hardest to break this poor guy out of his amnesia, who are we to interfere, hmm?” He said mockingly. Alvarez shot him a suspicious look, but shook himself and focused back on the road. Dean glared at Rossi/Meg. “Go on, explain the angel part again.” 

“Is…is that a flirtation?” Cas asked nervously. Dean sighed.

“No, it’s a species. Think about it. You don’t eat, right? Or sleep. You heal people. There’s probably more.” Cas looked confused.

“But being an angel sounds pleasant,” he muttered. 

“Yeah, not so much,” Dean replied. He gave Cas an apologetic, but pleading look. “It’s bloody. It’s corrupt. We used to fight together.” Cas shook his head.

“I don’t remember you. I’m sorry.” Dean sighed, nodding, as he leaned back and looked out the window again. 

“If he was an angel, wouldn’t he be able to smite demons, Dean?” Rossi asked in that teasing tone of voice. 

“I don’t remember how,” Cas said softly. Dean offered him a half smile.

“It’s in there, buddy. It ain’t gonna be easy, but you remember me telling you about Sam? My brother?” Cas nodded.

“Oh…oh, I did that to him,” he said, eyes widening as he fully connected the previous stories Dean had shared about his brother and ‘Cas’.

“Yeah,” came the sad reply.

“And I promised to fix him…” There was a scoff from the driver, causing both Dean and Rossi to toss him a glare, but Cas was deep into thought and ignored them all. 

*****

“Marin!” Spencer shouted as he watched in astonishment as the flickering ghost of her brother walked towards her menacingly. The lights in her room had already exploded from whatever power he possessed, but the salt circle he’d put her in seemed to keep her safe so far. Reid wasn’t so lucky and absent-mindedly swiped at the dribble of blood from his forehead where he’d been force-thrown into the doorframe. 

Marin, large eyes bulging in fear and sadness, glanced down at Spencer, before returning to watch her brother approach. 

“Please!” She yelled. “Just let me go.” The pale figure, covered in scorch marks, stopped at the edge of the circle and sneered. 

“I need you, Marin. I love you.” The girl sobbed, reaching out a hand. 

“Noooooo!” Spencer shouted, stumbling to his feet. He threw himself between Marin and her brother’s ghost just as he heard a lighter flick and the spirit went up with a poof of flames. 

Reid wrapped the girl in a protective hug as she now sobbed in relief. She clutched at the agent, hiding her face in his shoulder. Spencer spun his head around, realizing that it was gone, then saw Emily still holding the lighter in one hand, the last tendril of burnt thread drifting from her fingers to the floor. 

“Shhh, it’s okay. He’s gone now. You’re okay.” Spencer shushed her, brushing her hair out of her face. He grasped her cheeks and turned her to look up at him. She smiled shakily and nodded. 

“Thank you,” She sobbed. Spencer returned her smile, then turned to push her out of the room. 

“Go, we’ll take the blame. Just get better,” He told her, amazed at being able to still be articulate, even as his mind whirled. He pushed the change to his reality to the side to deal with later, watching her pass Emily. He turned to his partner just as Dr. Norman and a few orderlies/nurses came running in.

“Spencer?” Dr. Norman asked in confusion. He was looking around at the broken glass from the lights, the salt circle on the floor, and Emily standing with a lighter, now closed, in one hand. There were papers from the desk on the floor and Spencer wiped more consciously at the trickle from his forehead, frowning at the blood there. “What happened here?”

“Gas leak,” Emily sputtered as Reid just worked his mouth without sound, unable to form words. “I was about to light a cigarette and the lighter just caused the air to woosh and wham-o!” She made a gesture like an explosion, her eyes darting all over the room. The doctor’s eyes narrowed as he looked between them, finally settling on her still shocked face.

“Agent, you are aware there is no smoking indoors, correct?” The blush that rose up on Emily’s face broke Spencer’s vapor lock. 

“She is, doctor, and was just putting it away but had already flicked the lighter.” He caught Emily’s grateful look. “But it’s a happy accident, nonetheless. Imagine if this leak had continued and had built up more before the lights being turned on sparked it into a bigger explosion. Just the damage to anyone in the room or nearby alone would have been catastrophic.” The doctor and orderlies were looking around skeptically. It was Dr. Norman’s suspicious glance at Spencer that made him sigh and deflate. 

“I guess the old heating system needs to be checked.” He turned and ordered one of the orderlies to go turn off the gaslines to the building and call the fire department to find the leak. The other, he ordered to get all the patients moved to a common area as long as they weren’t a danger to others. He finally turned back to Spencer and Emily. “I suppose I should be grateful, but don’t be ready to explain to your supervisory agent when I send the bill for any damage here to him.” 

Spencer nodded and gave him a nervous smile.

“Let’s go downstairs and have one of the nurses check you two out,” He reached out to the young agent, pulling him gently from the room, Emily following not far behind. As they turned into the hallway, Emily caught Marin leaning out of a nearby doorway. She smiled and received a smile in return.


	6. Convergence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone arrives at the secure facility. Demons everywhere!

As they pulled into the parking lot at the rear entrance of the facility, Dean noticed by Rossi and Cas reacted. Slightly different reactions, but neither was exactly subtle. 

“Oh God!” Cas breathed out.

“Shit!” Rossi muttered.

Alvarez glanced up, shifting his gaze from one to the other with a raised eyebrow, but upon looking out onto the people in the lot, noticed nothing out of place. There were a few uniformed guards standing near the rear entrance, standing at a loose parade rest, but chatting as their eyes scanned the parking lot. A doctor and a nurse in scrubs were walking the parking lot in circles, getting in some exercise in the bright sunlight. Another small group of nurses in scrubs stood off to one side smoking. And a government SUV had just parked, two agents climbing out slowly. The tall, thin, young-looking man appeared to be lost in very deep thought. The brunette woman, though, looked more as though she were in shock. She almost stumbled out of the SUV and both of them studiously avoided eye contact and remained silent, passing the guards with just a flash of IDs as they went inside.

“Agent Rossi?” Alvarez asked when there was no expansion on the expletive. Rossi shook his head, glancing back at Dean and Cas. 

“Alvarez, I’d like this parking lot cleared before we take these two inside. Go work with those guards while I let the rest of my team know we’ve arrived.” The driver nodded, sliding out and securing the door, heading towards the two guards. Rossi immediately turned in the seat. “All right. Sam’s in there and this delicious Italian stallion is under the impression baby bro’s running out of time. Every one of these lurkers are demons. I can’t just walk out there because they’ll have my guts in seconds. Neither can Cas, because they’ll know immediately. And I can’t free or arm either of you, but I think I have a plan.” Dean groaned.

“Meg, do you know how much I hate you?” This caused Meg, in Rossi’s body, to chuckle. 

“Shut up. You’re making my nether regions quiver,” which coming from Rossi’s mouth, made Dean shake his head resignedly. 

*****

“Reid,” Emily said as they stood in the elevator. After a quick “Did that really happen?” and a “Uh,huh” as a reply, the ride back from Bennington had been silent as they had both absorbed what they had seen and experienced. Emily’s mind was still reeling, her eyes flickering all around her at any shadows. 

She kept going back again and again to the flickering spirit that had been haunting the young woman, had tried to kill her again and again to bring her to the other side with him. From what Garcia had dug up on Marin and her brother’s tragic death, they had seemed like typical siblings, if not as rivalrous as many. There was nothing dark in either of their pasts to explain his murderous obsession from the grave. Sam had said something about ghosts that were stuck, that couldn’t move on, sometimes got lost. It had a new meaning now to her, being more about attachments than about losing the path up or down.

There was a fleeting memory of an imaginary friend she’d had as a child and had insisted was real until her family moved to a different posting in another country. She could still remember what the young girl she’d imagined looked like, but now, she wondered if it was another ghost, another spirit that wasn’t properly at rest. Her brow furrowed as she made a mental note to ask Sam. Then she laughed at herself. One ghost banishing and suddenly she found she trusted the mentally incapacitated serial killer. Shaking her head to center herself, she realized Reid hadn’t answered her yet. She turned her head to look at him, watching his face shift as several emotions passed in seconds. The small butterfly bandage at his hairline was mostly hidden beneath his wild hair.

“Spencer,” she said, louder this time. The young agent startled, blinking harshly as he turned to face her. “Are you alright?” He shoved his hands in his pockets and frowned deeply. 

“Are you?” He asked in return. She opened her mouth, realizing that actually, she was. 

“I…yeah, I guess I am.” His eyebrows shot up at that. She smiled, tilting her head. “I mean, this…this is huge, but I think we might need to have a talk with the rest of the team as soon as we can.” Spencer returned her smile with his nervous one and nodded.

“Hmm. So, I think we need to talk to Sam first.” She agreed as the doors to the elevator opened on the floor where Sam’s observation and treatment cell were. The extra guard outside the door held up a hand as they tried to enter

“The doctor is in with him,” the broad, muscular man in uniform informed them. Before either of them could ask anything else, he shook his head. “He was called in for crisis emergency. You’ll have to wait until the doctor has him stabilized again.” Reid and Prentiss gave each other urgent looks and darted down to the observation room.

Inside the room, Hotch, Morgan, and JJ were watching through the window anxiously as a nurse stood on Sam’s far side, fastening the restraints on Sam’s wrist, another at his feet doing the ankle restraints, and the doctor sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning over the patient with a pen light.

“Sam, can you hear me?” He asked loudly, no emotion leaking. The medical monitor was chaotic.

The large man on the bed was gasping, small moans escaping when he got enough air. His eyes, glazed over, rolling around the room, unable to focus on anything. The doctor had one hand on his chin, moving his head around none-too gently, trying to get Sam’s eyes to land on him. But it was futile. Sam was completely pliant, a rag doll, whose life was slowly ebbing away. 

“Awww, is your soul broken?” Sam moaned as Lucifer’s mocking words filtered into his brain. He could hear the doctor asking him a question but he was so tired, and it felt like there was a weight on his chest. The doctor’s voice became more and more muffled as Lucifer laughed. 

The doctor finally moved away from the bed and turned to the window. His face was grim.

“He’s not going to last much longer. We need to talk about a surgical solution.” When Hotch’s face scrunched in question, Reid gasped as he understood what the doctor was most likely suggesting. 

“Lobotomy,” Spencer breathed out, making all of his team members to look at him in horror. The doctor shook his head.

“Not a lobotomy, agents,” he told them, “but if we don’t do something soon, his heart is going to give out. Several of his systems are already shutting down and it’s going to be touch and go as it is.” He turned to glance at the nurses who had finished all the restraints and were checking his IV and airway to prep him.

“Hotch, Emily and I have some new information,” Reid spoke up. Their supervisor looked at both of them, taking in Reid’s earnest gaze and Emily’s nod. “We believe he and his brother are only part of something much larger, and much more dangerous, but working against, not with the enemy.” The others stared at them both, waiting for an answer, but the doctor cleared his throat to draw their attention back.

“I either need clearance for the procedure or a waiver signed so that when he dies, my facility is not held accountable.” Hotch ran a hand over his mouth, then gestured at the doctor.

“Clearance granted. Have someone bring me the paperwork and I’ll sign off. Just do what you can, doctor.” And with that, the nurses were making the bed mobile and pushing it and the patient out of the room, the guard from the door and doctor following them.

“Okay, Reid, Prentiss. Rossi is on the way up with Dean Winchester and a possible accomplice. We should all be together so you won’t have to repeat it. Get Garcia on the phone.” Hotch turned towards them. The two agents looked at each and sighed.

*****

Alvarez helped Rossi walk Dean and Cas past the guards, then onto the elevator, where he returned to make sure the facility perimeter was secured, leaving the three alone in the elevator car. 

“Okay, I’m still running on a modicum of disbelief here,” Rossi said as the doors closed. Dean snorted.

“What part of being possessed by a demon are you not believing, agent Rossi?” He asked gruffly. Cas, not as wide-eyed as he had been, coughed and Meg spewed forth from the angel’s mouth, boiling into Rossi’s once again. The agent had startled violently, but by the time Meg was fully in control again, the car was reaching the intended floor. Cas shuddered, then straightened up. 

“I remember you,” Cas said in the interim silence. “I remember everything.” He shrugged his shoulders, as though loosening up his wings, and the handcuffs fell to the floor in a clatter. Rossi smiled, stooping to pick them up. Upon standing, he twirled them around his finger with a wink. 

“Oh, Clarence, sharing a body was beautiful, but next time?” She flicked her eyes to the cuffs, making Cas frown in confusion and Dean roll his eyes. 

“Alright, alright,” he growled, before the doors could open. “Your plan worked and an angel and a demon in one vessel confused the demons enough, but we still have to deal with the other agents and staff and find Sam.”

“I can feel more demons on this floor,” Cas said, as the doors slid open. There was a nurse there and he flicked a glance at agent Rossi, then Dean, still in cuffs and Cas standing free beside them. The nurse simply nodded, stepping in as they stepped into the hallway. 

“We need to find Sam, now,” Dean grumbled half under his breath. Rossi/Meg nodded, guiding his ‘prisoner’ down the hallway, Cas trailing, eyes scanning the area. 

“My team will know,” Rossi said as one of the doors in the hallway opened and the tall, thin young agent stepped out. They caught sight of each other, Reid visibly intrigued on seeing the two men he was escorting. “Show time,” Rossi said quietly enough only Dean and Cas could hear him.

*****

“Rossi,” Hotch greeted the Italian as he entered the observation room, still guiding Dean, with Cas walking placidly behind them. They were watching Dean and Cas so closely, trying to take in any behaviors that could give them an advantage, that when Rossi shared a look with the sweater-wearing man, both of them shaking their heads, they almost missed it. None of them missed though, that Dean visibly relaxed immediately after. Rossi directed Dean to a seat at the desk on the wall under the window, Cas sitting directly beside the handcuffed man. 

“Everyone, meet the infamous Dean Winchester,” the agent gestured at the prisoner. Dean looked up, meeting all their eyes briefly. It was when he landed on Emily, then Spencer, noticing a shadow in their eyes, their eyes searching for more in their gazes. He knew that look. Something had happened recently and was probably something to do with Sam. With a gasp, he tensed, twisting around to look into the room where his brother should have been.

“Mr. Winchester-,” the dark-haired agent that he knew was the leader, the boss, started, his voice softer than Dean expected.

“Where’s my brother?” His voice broke, but it was low and heavy. He caught a guilty shift in several of the agents. None responded immediately, so he said it again, more forcefully, gritted between his teeth. “Where. Is. My. Brother?”

“Um, he’s been awake for over 10 days now,” the youngest agent started, an apology seeping into the very essence of his words.

“He’s been taken to surgery,” Hotch spoke up, cutting off any further responses from his team. He’d noticed that this case had apparently spooked them. Several of them were acting very oddly, obviously either withholding information or had been witness to something they had yet to share. He saw Dean’s eyebrows go up. He shot his hand up to gently push him back into the chair. “His body is shutting down and his heart keeps slowing down. The doctor believes the surgical procedure should be able to allow him to finally sleep.”

“Son of a bitch!” Dean shook off the agent’s hand and shot to his feet. He turned his head to where Meg stood behind him in Rossi’s body. Meg shrugged but the look she gave him with it wasn’t promising. “Cas,” he grunted, turning the other direction. He watched Cas rise.

“Of course, Dean,” the angel said, reaching behind Dean, letting the handcuffs fall away with a clatter before anyone could respond. 

“Do not move!” Morgan shouted, his weapon in his hand already, aiming between Dean and Cas. JJ and Hotch also pulled out their weapons, aiming them at the two men. Reid and Spencer had their hands on theirs but had not yet brought them to bear. 

Cas laid a hand on Dean’s shoulder and suddenly, they weren’t there.

“Sir?” came Garcia’s hesitant voice over the open phone line. “Sir, what happened? There was shouting, then silence. Someone talk to me.” Her tone changed to wobbling in concern. 

“Garcia,” Hotch finally got out. “We’re fine. Dean Winchester and his accomplice escaped. Find them on the cameras. Now!”

“Escaped?” Reid squeaked. “They vanished. Just…disappeared.”


	7. Smite and Shift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saving Sam from the demons and Lucifer.

As Dean blinked to clear his vision from Cas’ flight taking them from the agents, he heard the familiar flutter of the angel’s wings, an odd hum of electricity, and mocking laughter covering over a familiar voice’s muffled screaming. Cas growled beside him and moved away quickly. Dean turned, catching sight of the moment Cas laid his hand upon the first nurse’s head, the bright white of the smiting pouring from his eyes and mouth with a shout. There was another nurse crumpled on the floor in the corner with blood running down his face and his arm oddly twisted. The doctor that had his fingers on the control device that he recognized as electroshock treatment equipment was snarling at the angel, his fingers twitching. From the device, wires were connected to a metal cage-like structure around Sam’s head. He had a bite guard in his mouth and was still twitching from the last jolt he’d been given, eyes closed tightly in pain. 

“You Winchesters,” the doctor snarled, his eyes turning black, revealing the demon inside. “Guess I don’t get to experiment to see how much little brother Sammy can take before his meat cooks, huh?” When Dean started to move forward, the demon raised a finger on the hand not over the controls and wagged it at him. “Nuh, uh, uh. I’ve just turned this up to the highest level. You don’t want me to slip and fry baby bro’s brain, do you?” He chuckled darkly. “Although I think poor Sammy might appreciate a little rest from what Lord Lucifer is currently doing to him.” 

“Does Crowley know you’re still licking Luci’s boots?” Dean asked, his eyes darting between the demon and his brother, who looked like absolute hammered crap. The demon shrugged one shoulder.

“Without you wastes of meat to rat me out, what do I care?”

Behind Dean and Cas, the door to the hallway crashed open and in swept Rossi, Morgan, and Prentiss, with the rest crashing through the door on the other side of the room. All six guns were drawn, pointing at Dean and Cas. 

“Dean Winchester, James Novak,” Morgan stated loudly. “Put your hands up and step away from the doctor.” 

“Damn it,” Dean muttered, ignoring the agents, still focused on the demon with his brother’s life in his hands. “You’re not making it out of this room,” he growled. 

“Doctor,” Reid’s voice rose in concern, “Since when is ECT considered a surgical procedure?” The other agents began taking in their surroundings, the doctor controlling the device, and the patient on the bed, who was still twitching, quiet moans escaping from behind the bite guard. When the doctor threw his head back and laughed, all of the agents were surprised and a little appalled. “Doctor, step away from the controls.”

Dean glanced around, noticing that Rossi, Reid, and Prentiss had moved their aim to the doctor, rather than himself. 

“Oh, this is fun,” the doctor laughed again, pointing at Rossi. “Meg, you’ve been a very bad girl, but I guess we’re both defying the king, eh?” Several agents darted looks over at the Italian man who holstered his gun and smiled, swinging his hip out in a very feminine fashion. 

“Rossi?” Hotch said his name in concern, but his agent merely turned his head and winked at him, making him blink in surprise. 

“Come on, Meg. Surely, finishing off these hunters is more fun than using them to hide from Crowley? And some FBI agents to play with later?” The demon in the doctor cajoled, tilting his head with a grin. His finger twitched over the ECT button and a shot rang out. A hole appeared in the doctor’s chest, but he only looked down and frowned. When he looked up again, he turned his gaze onto the one who had shot him, Prentiss. “Well, guess that’s one more do-gooder you can’t save.” 

Prentiss’ mouth opened but no sound came out. Dean turned his head towards her, keeping the doctor in his peripheral. 

“Thanks for the effort, but regular bullets don’t kill demons,” he explained, turning half back to the doctor. 

“Neither do blades,” the demon smirked. “Looks like I have the advantage here. You can’t kill me.” 

“Uh, hm,” Rossi coughed to get the demon’s attention. When his black eyes flickered to the possessed agent, Rossi was cleaning twirling the demon-killing knife, making the doctor’s sadistic smile fade. 

“You’ll never get close enough before I kill this one, Meg,” he sneered. Rossi smirked and shrugged.

“Don’t have to. Just needed you distracted.” There was a flicker and suddenly Cas was standing inches from the doctor, his hand raised to the demon’s head. 

The angel completed the motion and laid his palm on the demon’s forehead. The doctor’s body tensed and arched backwards, his eyes and mouth wide open, white light pouring from each opening. There were a few gunshots that went into Cas, but like the demon, he did not even flinch. Dean flinched sideways to avoid taking a bullet and suddenly regretted it as the doctor’s purged body dropped, the hand over the controls, hitting the button just hard enough to activate the machine. 

On the bed, Sam’s body arched, corded muscles so taught they looked as though they could snap. His head was thrust backwards, teeth ground into the bite guard so hard his jaws trembled. His eyes were squeezed shut, a little blood beginning to seep from around the closed eyelids. There were trails of blood beginning from his ears and nostrils as well. The initial reaction had included the beginning of a scream, but it had gone silent. 

Cas threw the doctor’s body to the side and slapped the device, causing it to spark and smoke, dying, the electricity no longer tormenting Sam. Dean leapt away from the wall he’d thrown himself against and yanked the head cage off his brother. Sam was still seizing, blood dribbling slowly, as Cas reached both hands to grab each side of Sam’s head. Morgan started to shout, immediately concerned that Cas was going to smite the younger Winchester like he had the demon, but Rossi laid a hand on his arm to stop him. 

Dean turned frightened eyes up to the blue-eyed man as he wrapped his arms tightly around his brother. He could feel excess electricity coming off of Sam’s skin, like jolts of static electricity, but refused to let go. 

“Cas?” He breathed as Sam’s seizures eased slowly. He continued to twitch randomly, his eyes rolled back. “Cas? Can you fix him?” The angel sighed sadly. 

“I should have never broken his wall, Dean. At least I’m here to make it right.” His hands glowed slightly and the agents, who had moved closer in surprise and confusion, watched as the seizure stopped and all of the blood ran in reverse back into Sam Winchester. 

“What the hell just happened?” JJ asked quietly. Reid and Prentiss were already putting their weapons back in their holsters. Hotch, Morgan, and JJ weren’t quite ready for that yet. 

“This is kind of what Emily and I wanted to tell you guys before,” Reid replied. He glanced at Rossi. “Rossi, you saw something before too, right?” The Italian turned towards Reid and his eyes went black, making the agents all stumble back, guns raised. Rossi raised his hands. 

“I’m prepared to vacate for a short time, going to retrieve my favorite meatsuit that I had to abandon, but you have to promise to keep Sam and Dean alive so they can protect Cas from any other not-me demons.” The agents looked between the bed, where Sam began to look less on the edge of death and Rossi, who acted and talked as though he had a separate personality. Rossi got a short nod from Dean as he held onto his brother and he returned the nod. “Later, Winchester.” 

With that, Rossi threw his head back and black smoke began boiling from out of his mouth. There were several gasps of terror and more stumbling, but finally the last of demon smoke disappeared into an air vent and Rossi went to his knees.

“Rossi,” Hotch and Prentiss said at the same time, darting forward to help him stand up on wobbly legs. 

“Somebody going to tell me what the hell just happened here?” He was still pointing his weapon at Dean and Cas. Reid stepped in between them and held his hands up, guarding the Winchesters and their accomplice. 

“Let Dean and his friend do whatever they can for Sam and we’ll talk.” He glanced over his shoulder to where Dean gave him a grateful, if hesitant nod. 

“You guys can’t kill Cas,” Dean said, “But Sam and I are mortal, so I swear on Sam’s life that as long as you let us save him, I’ll tell you anything and everything you want and won’t resist. But only after Sam’s out of Death’s clutches. Agreed?” Everyone in the room looked at Hotch for guidance, except Cas, who continued working on the younger Winchester. The supervisory agent frowned, but then holstered his weapon, prompting the rest to follow suit.

“Temporary truce, Mr. Winchester,” Hotch finally replied. Dean nodded, then turned when Sam moaned, opening his eyes. Cas dropped his hands.

“Sammy, Sammy, you okay, little brother?” Dean asked, laying a gentle hand on Sam’s cheek and turning his eyes towards him. Sam’s eyes cleared a little as he blinked. He looked at Dean, then flinched away with a terrified shout. Sam glanced over at Cas and twisted, trying to push himself away from both of them, but not getting very far as the restraints were still in place. 

Dean and Cas exchanged sad looks, but all Sam could see was two Lucifers, one holding him close, the other leaning over the bed, both laughing mockingly. 

“No,” Sam moaned, “You’re not real. You’re not real!” He closed his eyes and trembled in Dean’s hold. The hunter and the angel shared another sad look that included more fear this time. Cas turned his gaze back to Sam.

“Oh, Sam. I’m so sorry I did this to you.”

*****

“I can’t rebuild the wall, Dean,” Cas said once they had Sam safely back into his room. 

Most of the agents were back in the observation room, Hotch having insisted that, even though Dean and Cas had escaped without using the door last time, the Winchesters and the man they had identified as James Novak be locked inside the room. The guard who had escorted them to the ECT room had vanished. The nurse’s and doctor’s bodies were locked away in that ECT room until they could get things straightened out. The other nurse was still unconscious. Cas had healed the broken arm and the concussion, then put him into a deep sleep, or so he told the agents. 

“What the hell do you mean, you _can’t_?” Dean growled. He was pacing by the bed, where Sam lay with his eyes squeezed shut and a pillow over his ears, but he rocked himself as though neither were blocking out whatever he was hearing. 

“You healed his physical injuries, Mr. Novak,” Hotch told him through the intercom. “What is preventing you from putting him to sleep like you did that nurse? He needs sleep, right?” Cas sighed, rolling his eyes to the observation window. 

“This isn’t a physical injury. It’s-,” he started.

“-a long story,” Dean interrupted. “Let’s just say Sam’s hallucinations aren’t your normal ‘brain chemistry gone wrong’ crap.” 

“Dean, the wall has crumbled to dust. There’s nothing left to rebuild. Whatever is happening in his head right now, it’s more than I obviously anticipated.” He sighed deeply and turned mournful eyes onto his friend. “Everything, Sam, the angels in heaven, the people I killed on earth. All my fault. And it’s not a problem I can make disappear. Why did God bring me back after all I did?”

“There’s got to be a reason, Cas. Something you can do.” Dean ran a hand over his mouth, watching his brother roll his head and keen in terror. Cas followed his gaze.

“I may be able to shift it,” the angel finally said, sitting on the edge of Sam’s bed. 

“Shift?” Dean and Reid asked at the same time. Cas turned apologetic eyes up to Dean and then the window. 

“It should be enough to get Sam back on his feet. It’s better this way.” He looked at Dean again and offered a soft smile. “I’ll be fine.” He turned and gently pulled Sam’s hands away from his ears. Sam’s eyes went wide and he gasped, staring up into Lucifer’s mocking face as the fallen archangel pushed his hands away, then gripped his face. 

“What are you doing?” Dean asked, nervously watching his friend. 

“No, please,” Sam cried out as Lucifer sneered down at him.

“Now Sam,” the hallucination told him, in a mock gentle tone. “This may hurt.” 

“Cas!” Dean gasped as Sam’s eyes went wide and he clutched at Cas’s arms, clawing at them to pull them off his face. 

“I’m sorry I ever did this to you,” Cas smiled softly as his hands began to glow. 

The agents jerked in surprise, expecting to see the white light streaming from Sam’s head as it had the nurse and the doctor. But this glow faded and suddenly Sam’s eyes glowed red, fiery red vines tracing away from his eyes. The red seemed to bleed over into Cas’ hands and began to creep up his arms. Sam was groaning in pain but had stopped clawing at Cas’ arms. It continued up his arms, disappearing under the sleeves of the sweater, then reappearing above the neckline until the glowing red vines reached his eyes. Cas gasped as his own eyes glowed bright red and the red glow and vines faded from Sam, fading up Cas’ arms, focusing around his eyes only before fading there too. 

Sam swallowed, then blinked in confusion as the angel’s hands fell away from his face. 

“Sam?” Dean pleaded softly. He saw Sam’s eyes darting around, landing on him.

“Dean?” His brow furrowed deeper in confusion when he realized it was Cas sitting right beside him. “Cas? Is that really you?” 

Dean hurriedly moved to his friend’s side and laid a shaky hand on his shoulder. Cas flinched, his eyes watching Sam in horror. But what he saw was not Sam Winchester, but Lucifer, lounging on the bed and smirking at him. 

“No,” Cas breathed out, throwing himself backwards off the bed, out of Dean’s grasp. He scrambled backwards, gasping in shallow breaths. “Nooooo.” Sam and Dean shared a look, Sam’s confused, Dean’s sad. 

“Hello brother,” Lucifer said to Cas, lifting a hand in a wave, and beginning to laugh darkly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter, I think. And this flowed so much better than I expected. So it may have inspired a series.


	8. One Man Up, One Angel Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam comes back to reality and Cas goes catatonic.

“What, um, what’s happening?” Sam asked as Dean pulled his brother into a hug. Sam returned the emotional hug, his eyes going from where Cas huddled, terrified in the far corner, to the observation window, where he saw six people, obviously law enforcement, most likely FBI by the way they dressed and held themselves, watching him and his brother in mixed awe, shock, and confusion. 

“Sam,” Dean muttered brokenly into his shoulder, then pulled back and gripped Sam’s face like Cas had previously. Sam met his watery eyes. But the way his brother was looking at him, Sam gathered he’d nearly died, again. “I’m damn glad to see you, man.” 

“You too,” Sam replied, “but I gather I missed some things.” His eyes drifted over to the observation window. “A lot of things.” Dean barked a laugh and patted Sam’s cheek. 

“Yeah, uh, yeah.” Dean looked over his shoulder at the agents, then down at Cas. “There’s a lot to talk about.” He eased back to standing, leaving his hand lightly on Sam’s shoulder, as though afraid he’d disappear if he let go. Tentatively, he patted Sam’s shoulder, testing Sam’s solidity after the brief break in contact. “Cas?” The angel flinched, attempting to squeeze more of himself into the corner. 

When Sam sat up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed, he wavered, prompting Dean to grab him before he fell down. 

“Easy, little brother. You’ve been off your feet and not really been taken care of like you should be. Gonna be a bit before you can just leap up like that.” Sam ran a hand through his greasy hair and grimaced. 

“Yeah,” he said, still confused. He looked around suddenly as something occurred to him. “Dean? Lucifer. He’s, uh, gone.” Dean shook his head and indicated Cas in the corner. Sam followed the gesture, his face morphing as the realization hit him. “No, Cas.” He took a step towards his friend but froze when Cas looked up and screamed. The angel’s eyes rolled up and he flopped over onto his side. Sam and Dean were by his side within seconds. 

They heard the door open behind them and Hotch and Morgan rushed over to join them. JJ and Emily were in the doorway, faces in shock. Spencer and Rossi were leaning heavily on the desk in the observation room, no less in shock than the others. 

When Sam stumbled after bending over too fast, catching himself on the wall, Morgan reached out and gripped his other bicep.

“Sit,” the dark-skinned agent told him, pushing him gently to turn and come down easy. “We got this. Okay?” Sam nodded and slid down to sit just out of the way of where Dean and the other agent were lifting Cas’ prone body off the floor. They moved him in tandem over to lay on the bed that Sam had recently risen from. The dark-haired supervisory agent took lead in getting the unconscious body situated to where he was comfortable, nodding at the older Winchester when he didn’t argue. Morgan stayed crouched next to Sam, one hand on his shoulder to keep him steady. 

“You okay now?” Morgan asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” Sam replied, taking a few deep breaths. The agent stood up and stepped back, but bent over and offered Sam his arms to pull himself up with.

“Slow now, Sam,” the bald man said. Sam grunted and let the muscular guy help him up, his own body feeling much weaker than he remembered. Once Sam was standing and not swaying, still hunched over a little, Morgan changed his grip and helped guide him to the chair. “Easy now,” he told him as he assisted in keeping the former patient from just falling into the seat.

“Thanks, uh…,” he said, with a shy smile up at Morgan. 

“Derek Morgan,” Derek told him. He nodded to Hotch. “My boss, Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. And my teammates, JJ Jareau, Emily Prentiss,” he said gesturing towards the door. “David Rossi and Dr. Spencer Reid.” His final gesture was to the two men in the observation room. “FBI. We’re with the BAU.” Sam had looked at each person as Morgan had indicated and named them. When he heard ‘FBI’, he swallowed and dropped his head with a laugh.

“Sorry, Dean,” he snuffled, scrubbing over his face with both his hands. 

“For what, Sam?” Dean asked, still watching Hotch check over Cas.

“Guess I screwed up worse than I thought,” Sam chuckled derisively at himself. Dean turned a frown onto his brother, glancing at Morgan, back at Cas, then back to Sam. Dean sat down on the side of the bed, facing Sam.

“Sammy, it’s…I’m not blaming you. This,” he said, gesturing to indicate everything around them, “none of this is your fault. Between Cas, Crowley, Lucifer…honestly, I’m just glad to have you back. And whatever happens from here, remember that Cas…” He sighed and looked over his shoulder at him. “Cas ended up like this because of his own guilt. And none of this is on you. Okay? You hearing me?” He raised an eyebrow as he leaned towards Sam earnestly.

“Yeah, I hear you,” Sam replied. Dean stood up and met Hotch’s inquisitive gaze. 

“So? What does happen from here?” Hotch was about to reply when the doctor who had been possessed, who had been smote by Cas, breezed into the room, pushing JJ and Prentiss aside. Immediately, there were four guns pointed at the doctor, with Dean bracing himself for a fight while stepping forward to put himself between the others and the demon. 

“Oh, come on,” the possessed doctor cried, stopping and throwing up his hands. “It’s me. Meg?” The doctor put his hands on his hips and frowned at them. Dean shook his head and then put a hand to get the others to put away their weapons.

“Meg?” Dean asked hesitantly. The doctor crossed his arms across his chest and thrust one hip to the side in typical Meg fashion.

“Yeah, Dean-o,” she smirked. “I figured you’d frown if I showed up in a live one and got him killed too.” Dean rolled his eyes. 

“You’re already freaking out the muggles,” Sam said, grimacing up at the possessed doctor. “But the bullet holes and the burned-out eyes are kinda freaking me out too.” 

“Muggles,” Sam heard Dr. Reid mutter to himself with a chuckle. 

“Fine,” Meg said. She threw up her hands and Dean knew that if the body had eyes, she’d be rolling them “I’ll trade up for a live doctor, since you’ll need some authority to maneuver around this whole mess. But try not to shoot me when I come back.” She turned and stormed out of the room, JJ and Prentiss backing as close to the wall as they could to avoid touching the horrid walking corpse. 

Dean and Sam exchanged a grimace and a shudder, making the agents shift nervously. 

“So, Meg,” Sam said. Dean huffed.

“Yeah.” 

“And Cas?!” Sam looked up at his brother in confusion. Dean leaned against the desk and shook his head. 

“Found him in Colorado. Saved him and his wife from demons.” Sam’s brow furrowed deeper.

“What?! Wife?” Dean smirked.

“Do you remember me telling you I was going to find help after you got hit by that car?” Sam shrugged one shoulder and nodded.

“Yeah, vaguely.” Neither of them paid any attention to the agents watching them in fascination. 

“Went to Rufus’ cabin and started looking for contacts. For anything really. Found a guy who claimed he knew a faith healer.” When Sam’s expression changed to one of protest, Dean held up a hand. “I was skeptical too. We both know how that usually turns out, but this contact claimed he’d been healed by him. So, lacking any other leads, I just went there.”

“And it was Cas?”

“Yep. Said he woke up with no memory. Woman who found him took him in and named him Emmanuel. They got married and once he realized he could heal people, he thought it was just a gift from god and started working as a faith healer.” Sam exclaimed and leaned back in the chair, his elbows on the chair arms. 

“All this time?” He asked, almost to himself. Dean shrugged.

“I guess. Was kinda working on a deadline, you know? Didn’t get that into the weeds.” He and Sam exchanged knowing looks and smiled at each other. “Just glad to get you back.” Sam sighed, then looked around at the agents.

“For how long, though?” Dean huffed a chuckle at Sam’s question.

“Haven’t had time for the ‘Talk’,” Dean said using air quotes with his fingers. Suddenly, he smiled broadly. “Now that you’re up and about…” He waggled his eyebrows at Sam, making him groan. “You’re better with the talky thing, little brother.” 

“Okay, I’m back,” a new voice said as a different doctor breezed into the room. He stopped and held up his hands before everyone could even get their guns out this time. “Meg. Me. Friendly?” He ignored Dean’s rolling eyes and went to Cas’ side. “What did Clarence do?”

“He shifted Sam’s hallucinations to his own head,” Dean replied, watching the doctor closely, lack of trust obvious. Meg looked back at Dean, then down at Sam, before smiling.

“Hiya, Moose,” she said, looking him up and down. Sam shifted in his chair uncomfortably under her gaze. “You still look like shit, but it’s nice to see those gorgeous eyes again.” Sam coughed, looking anywhere but at her. Meg side-eyed Dean without moving her body. “Dean-o, you roll those eyes much more and they might just pop right out.” 

“Meg, is it?” Hotch started, apparently trying to be diplomatic. 

“That’s right, g-man,” she crooned at him. “Is it a hiring requirement that all FBI agents be smoking hot?” She raised an eyebrow as she looked around at all six of them pointedly. Morgan chuffed a half smile. “If so, I could really get behind some interrogations, if you get what I mean?” Dean stood up straight.

“Yeah, Meg, we all get what you mean,” he ground out. “Why are you back here without your other body? Why are you back at all?” 

“Meh, I got some muckity-muck to sign off on getting my meat suit sent here,” she shrugged. When Hotch and Morgan gasped, she shook her head. “Hey, I played nice and left him as in the dark as I kept Sammy here that first week.” She smirked at Sam’s angry glare. “Sorry, kiddo. But once my body arrives, I’ll drop this guy, who’s just as clueless as the last guy.” She tapped her own head of dark, curly hair. “I’ll have this guy sign off on Cas being admitted as James Novak, missing man found in catatonic state. And have him set me up as a mental health nurse so I can watch over the little unicorn.”

“I’m afraid there might be more complications than that,” Hotch said, shaking his head. It was already whirring with all the new information and trying to slot in how everything was going to work out. Meg snorted.

“You’d be surprised.”

“There’s actually a shortage of behavioral health nurses,” Dr. Reid spoke up from the other room. He shrugged when everyone looked at him. “It really wouldn’t be that hard to have someone hack in and create a backstory for her. It wouldn’t even need to be prestigious. Just certified.” Morgan tilted his head at him.

“Dr. Reid, I know you did not just suggest that we help a criminal forge documents?” The tone was playful and made Reid duck his head. 

“Sam?” Dean spoke up with his eyebrows raised. 

“Yeah, just need my laptop,” the seated man said. “And a little information about the body Meg is in.” When Hotch shot him a questioning look, it was Reid who spoke up again. 

“If you sprinkle in enough legitimate information and make the background humble, it’s doubtful she’ll be caught.” He stopped and took a breath. “Employers are surprisingly lax when doing employment background checks. Unless it’s for high level jobs.” Dean chuckled and patted Sam on the shoulder. 

“Sammy, another nerd to geek out over useless facts with.” Sam shot him a bitchface, making both Morgan and Dean both.

“Wait until you meet Garcia,” Morgan said. 


	9. Working Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winchesters share with the BAU and they put plans into motion to get them all back into action.

The first exercise in trust had been leaving Meg in possession of the doctor so she could get him hooked up to monitor, but with the promise that once everything was in place, she’d leave him none the worse for the experience. Rossi had contacted Alvarez for updates on Dean’s car and Meg’s body and found that both had been diverted and were on their way to Las Vegas and would be delivered to the Vegas FBI field office. He hesitated in asking him why the body was going to the field office rather than the morgue or a cold storage facility. Alvarez had stumbled over his explanation but it seemed the agent who had redirected the body, had requested a refrigerated truck, which was odd, but it took the rotting of the body out of the equation and it was authorized so he hadn’t given it much more thought. 

Everyone had moved to a bigger room, one of the facility conference rooms, for the ‘Talk’, with Sam’s open and honest face laying it all out there, or as much as he could without going through their entire life story. Garcia, of course, being the enigma she was, had recognized their story and immediately hit on the ‘Supernatural’ books. Dean had groaned as Sam grimaced, but they admitted to the prophet-written books being about them. Rossi, a devout catholic, had been very quiet during Sam’s explanation, but had amazingly, been the easiest to convince, as he had been Meg’s puppet for that short stint. Reid and Prentiss had shared their experience with Marin and the ghost banishment. 

Morgan, JJ, and Hotch had seen the demons, the smiting, Cas being shot and not bleeding, Cas ‘shifting’ the hallucinations from Sam to himself. Sam began to glaze over and shudder when they asked for more information about his hallucinations and what they meant by a ’wall’ crumbling. Dean, ever in protective mode, had shut down the questioning at that point and told them to give them some time to recover and he’d sit down to honestly answer any question they had, as long as enough alcohol was involved. 

They broke to allow Sam and Dean to break off and huddle to the side, Reid watched them closely. Everyone else watched as Dean muttered quietly to his brother and kept a hand on Sam or a knee pressed to his at all times to ground him. Eventually, Sam stopped shivering, lifted his head, and leaned into Dean’s arm that he wrapped around his shoulders. 

“PTSD,” Reid muttered to Hotch, knowing that the others could pick it up. He was pretty sure the brothers couldn’t hear them, but he didn’t want to set Sam off again. 

“The torture?” Rossi asked, just as quietly. Reid hummed in response. Hotch gave them fifteen minutes before calling everyone back to the table. 

Dean picked up the discussion from there, giving them a very shortened explanation about how a psychological wall in Sam’s mind keeping him from remembering a really bad trauma had been removed due to a bad decision on Cas’ part, causing his brother to hallucinate Lucifer tormenting him. They could tell there was far more to the story, but Dean’s challenging glare kept them quiet.

Garcia, by dint of not being in Dean’s eyeline, brought up something she’d spotted in most, if not all of the reports.

“Sir,” she chirped excitedly, “Going back as far as I could, and matching credit card records, legitimate, as well as fraudulent,” (Dean smirked.) “they arrived at the city or town after the weird or homicidal things started. Yes, they stopped around the time they left the area, but it was always noted as them being the unsubs.” 

“But if they arrived after the bad things happened,” JJ said slowly. Sam and Dean sighed in relief as they realized they had new allies. “Then they’re probably telling the truth that they were there to stop them. Vigilantes, not serial killers.” 

“Exactly,” Garcia said happily. 

“See, Sam? I’m Batman,” Dean puffed out his chest. Sam rolled his eyes.

“Still on the wrong side of the law, jerk,” the younger teased his brother, making Dean deflate a little and the mood to lighten among the agents as well. 

By the end, Hotch had sat back, silently contemplating everything the Winchesters had shared and everything his team had seen and experienced. 

“Henrickson?” He asked finally. 

“-let us go,” Dean shrugged. “Demons attacked the station where he had us locked up. He and the rest of them worked with us to trap and exorcise the demon. Most of the possessed were saved, but a few didn’t make it. He believed by that point, he agreed to let our deaths be reported with the helicopter explosion the demons caused and we left.” He breathed deeply. “But the demon that was chasing us, Lilith, caught up to him right after we left. If we’d known…” he trailed off. Sam looked up with a sad wince.

“…we’d never have left any of them there,” the younger man finished. Hotch nodded with a hum. 

“I can’t cover this up completely,” the agent said after a few minutes of silence, “but with a little cooperation, I think we can all agree that it’s better for you two to be out there fighting those…things, rather than being locked up.”

“Damn straight,” Dean said, slapping his hand on the tabletop. 

“Dean,” Sam sighed tiredly.

“I think the next order of business is to give Sam, Reid, and Garcia what they need to work on the things I don’t need to know about.” He raised his eyebrows at the others, and they broke again, Spencer pulling out his laptop, and Rossi and Morgan heading to the field office to retrieve Sam’s laptop from Dean’s car. As it wasn’t that far away, within a half hour, all three techies were hunched over their devices, talking through what they were doing. 

It took a few hours of Sam and Spencer, with Penelope on the phone, to get Cas registered and transferred to Bennington as Jimmy Novak, and to set Meg up with the credentials she needed. Luckily, Spencer had intel that Bennington was hiring new nurses and orderlies after several had been fired for HIPAA violations, so getting Meg hired as a nurse specializing in catatonic patient care was relatively easy. Sam had yawned his way through the last part of the call, prompting Dean to hand over the clean up to the agents so he could get Sam cleaned up and into a bed for some still much-needed sleep. 

Garcia had set them up with a room at a local hotel, ‘not a motel’, Dean had said, impressed, so they left, with Spencer and Morgan as escorts who got them checked in and seen them to their large room with double queen-sized beds. Spencer had said five magic words, prompting Dean to smile so wide Sam simply waved at them and stumbled into the bathroom as Dean saw them out. 

“Charge everything to the room.”

*****

“Thank you,” Sam said, smiling broadly at Spencer. 

“Dimples,” JJ whispered to Emily, making the other agent hum in agreement. Apparently, 14 hours of sleep, a shower and a shave turned ‘looks like death’ Sam Winchester into ‘stud muffin’ Sam. His eyes were brighter, shadows lessened, and his hair looked clean and soft. JJ and Prentiss had made a few comments, making Dean wink at his brother as Sam had blushed shyly. The appearance of the dimples had settled for them that the younger brother was drool-worthy, prompting Morgan to step in between the women and Sam with an admonishing glare at them. Dean had nodded his appreciation to the bald agent, as he’d seen Sam’s discomfort. 

Not that Dean disagreed with them. He knew his brother could have been a more prolific womanizer than he himself had been in the past with how women swooned over him, but his brother wasn’t made like that. And poor Sam had been through so much recently that he knew it’d be a while before his brother was comfortable in his own skin again. 

“For what?” Spencer had asked, standing in front of the taller man, perplexed that he had to look up at someone else for once. 

“For helping Marin. You didn’t have to listen to anything I said, but you did.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I, uh, talked to Garcia before we left the hotel because I wanted to personally thank her for her help, and she told me she’d found out during her investigating rabbit hole run, Marin is improving and there’s already a note on her file to let her move to a less secure ward and then possibly send her home if she continues to improve.”

“Oh,” Spencer said, blushing as he realized he hadn’t thought to check back on her after he and Emily had talked their way out of being charged for the damages. It seemed so very long ago. “You’re welcome, Sam. I have to say it was definitely, what I hope is, a unique experience.” Sam chuckled.

“Yeah, I get that. Thanks anyway.” He pulled out his wallet that Rossi had retrieved from the field office and handed Reid a card. On one side was a hand-written phone number. “That’s my cell if you guys ever run into anything supernatural and need help with.” He put the wallet back and shifted nervously. “Or if you just want to talk.” He caught the moment that Reid flipped the card and began to guffaw. It drew the others’ attention, and they came over from beside Dean’s Baby to see what was up. 

“Licensed bikini inspector?” Spencer asked, still laughing. Dean smirked as Sam shot him a classic bitchface. The other agents snickered and shook their heads. 

“I forgot I had those made,” Dean snickered. “Wondered when you’d get around to handing one of them out.” Sam sighed and looked heavenward.

“Dean….” 

“Lighten up, Sammy,” Dean smiled broadly, clapping a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “At least you didn’t hand them one of the fake FBI ones.” Eyebrows shot up, causing Dean’s smile to falter. “Not that we’d have any of those.”

“I think it’s time to go,” Sam said, shoving Dean hand away without any real malice. “Before we get arrested on new charges.” 

“I agree,” Hotch said, sending Dean a glare. When Sam smiled at Dean’s nervous frown, Hotch winked at the younger brother, making Dean huff.

“Get in the car, Sam,” Dean muttered, turning away. Sam shook all of their hands and thanked them again for everything while his brother plopped into the driver’s seat. 

“You’ll be hearing from us,” Rossi said as the younger brother joined Dean in the car. The engine roared to life, making Rossi whistle appreciatively. Dean gave a smug smile, then waved at them with two fingers, before driving away from the group of agents. 

“What next?” JJ asked Hotch as they watched the classic car drive away. He shook his head.

“I can see lots of reports I’ll need to manipulate for this one,” he replied as the other agents began to drift away. “And things are a lot more complicated now that we know what we know.” JJ hummed. 

“And them?” He glanced over at her concern. 

“If we take what they said to be the bold truth, I think there’s still a lot of pain and heartache in their future. And I’m glad they’re on our side.” JJ smiled at that, glancing at him. 

“Me too, Hotch.” 


	10. Shhh, Listen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A twist that crept into my head before I'd even finished chapter 7. 
> 
> Considering making this part 1 of a new series. Thoughts?

“I knew it was you,” said a voice from the doorway, causing Meg to look up from the magazine she had been reading. It had been months since Meg had been assigned to the ward and had requested to be Cas’ personal nurse. She still helped with other patients, but Cas was where she spent the majority of her time. And as she didn’t require sleep, she snuck in off shift and spent every night with him as well, sitting by his bedside, keeping any other demons or other snoopy people away from the nearly catatonic angel. 

In the doorway stood a tall, slender blond woman. She had a throw wrapped around her shoulders and a wan smile on her lips. Meg recognized the woman as a long-time resident of the facility, raising an eyebrow at the memories of the odd conversations they had had when they encountered each other. 

“Ms. Reid,” Meg said as she stood up, tossing her magazine onto the desk behind her. The woman turned to meet the demon’s eyes and Diana scoffed. 

“Meg.” She brushed past Meg, walking slowly over to sit in the chair beside Cas’ bed. The demon scowled at the back of her head, but only crossed her arms and leaned on the doorframe. “I’m not here to see you,” Diana said over her shoulder.

“He’s catatonic, Ms. Reid,” Meg sighed. She didn’t catch the eyeroll that earned her, but the huff of laughter made her nerves prickle. 

“You don’t know as much as you think, girlie,” Diana snickered. She leaned over, placing a soft hand on Cas’ forehead. “Oh, Castiel.” Cas’ eyes shot open and he turned his head to meet her gaze. His confusion shifted to recognition.

“Hello, Minerva,” the angel said. Diana’s smile grew.

“I’m just sticking with ‘Diana’ now,” she replied. Cas inclined his head in acknowledgement. 

“How are you doing that?” Meg asked in suspicion from the door, taking a step forward. Diana chuckled, winking down at Cas. 

“Diana is a very old acquaintance,” Cas told Meg, who huffed.

“So, you’re someone, some…thing, that can fix him?” the demon asked, eyes shifting in amazement to the angel. 

“No, I can’t ‘fix’ him,” Dianna replied. “This is just a temporary block.”

“Should have known,” Meg scoffed. “Can’t even fix yourself or you wouldn’t be here.” Diana half turned, keeping her hand on the angel’s forehead. She leveled a penetrating glare at the nurse.

“I don’t need to fix myself. I can’t fix him,” she said, turning back to smile down at the angel, “but I can give him to ability to mix a new material so he can slowly build his own wall.” She laughed when he frowned at her in confusion. “I want to hear all about your adventures,” she whispered to the angel, before removing her hand. His eyes glazed over and closed as he returned to the near catatonia that was his existence. She sighed, standing up and wrapping the throw more securely around her shoulders. As she passed Meg to leave the room, Meg stopped her. 

“I get that you know him somehow.” Diana nodded, her head tilted as she looked at the demon. “But how did you know we, he was here?” Diana’s face broke into a mysterious smile. 

“Like I told Spencer, I hear things.” She tapped her nose, then left Meg alone with the catatonic angel. 


End file.
